LC 261 
.E5 
1873 
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LECTURES 



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YOUNG 



By WILLIAM G. ELIOT, Jr. 

PASIOS OP THE CHURCH OF THE MESSIAH, BT. I.OUIB. 



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TENTH EDITION. 



BOSTON: 
AMERICAN UNITARIAN ASSOCIATION 
1873. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by 

Crosby, Nichols, and Compant, 

In the Clerk's Office of the DiBtrict Court of the District of Massachusetti 






V CONTENTS. 



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INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 

PAGE 

AN APPEAL . . . ' . . . . 5 



LECTURE n. 

SELF-EDUCATION 30 

LECTURE in. 

LEISURE TIME 57 

LECTURE IV. 

TRANSGRESSION 86 

LECTURE V. 

THE WAYS OF WISDOM ..... 128 

LECTURE YI. 
RELIGION 159 




INTRODUCTORY LECTURE. 



AN APPEAL. 



" I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong, and the 
word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the wicked one. Love 
not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love 
the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the 
world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, 
Is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and 
the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever." — 
IJohnU. 14-17. 



I PROPOSE, as already announced, to give 
several discourses to young men, addressed to 
them as a distinct class in the community and 
as individuals. For such an undertaking we 
have the authority and example of an Apostle, 
who, in the words of my text, addresses his 
exhortations to young men, with a degree of 
solemnity that shows the importance attached 
to this part of his preaching. He repeats the 
same words twice, and with increasing em- 
phasis : " I write unto you, young men, be- 



b AN APPEAL. 

cause ye hare overcome the wicked one"; 
and again, " I have written unto you, young 
men, because ye are strong, and the word of 
God abideth in you, and yn have overcome 
the wicked one." 

This apostolical example v/e would follow ; 
this Scriptural authority we would use. I de- 
sire to address the young men of this society, 
and all those who are willing to hear me, in 
the woids of soberness and truth. Under 
different circumstances and with a feebler 
tongue; but with a purpose I trust equally 
true, and with a work to be accomplished, not 
less important than that which the Apostles 
themselves were sent to accomplish. For 
their work was to speak in Christ's stead, per- 
suading men to be reconciled to God; and the 
same work is committed to every minister of 
Christ, at the present day. They may do it 
badly ; they may work as hirelings, and not as 
faithful shepherds; but their work, whether 
done or neglected, is the same. 

The circumstances, however, under which 
the Apostle spoke are very different from our 



AN APPEAL. 7 

own. He addressed those only who were 
members of the Church of Christ, who had 
already made a good profession and proved 
their sincerity by lives of obedience. For he 
says, " I have written unto you, young men, 
because ye are strong " ; that is, strong in the 
Lord and in the power of his might, " and the 
word of God abideth in you, and ye have 
overcome the wicked one." In that day there 
were very few nominal Christians. Those 
who bore the name of Christ were also com- 
pelled to bear his cross. They who came to 
hear Christian preaching carried their lives in 
their hands, and the young men of a Christian 
society were an army of self-devoted followers 
of Him, under whose standard they were en- 
listed. I wish that it were so now. The out- 
ward danger is past, but I wish that the self- 
devotion could continue. 

Unhappily for the Christian cause, it is not 
so. Of all the young men in this city, who 
were educated by Christian parents, and who 
in common language would call themselves 
Christians, not one tenth have a full right to 



8 AN APPEAL. 

tli'at name-, not one tenth have so much as 
professed their faith in Christ. How small a 
number can be said to have a well-founded 
hope in him ! In this society, there are prob- 
ably two or three hundred young men ; I mean 
that there is at least that number who make 
this their usual place of worship, when they 
attend church at all. How small a part of 
them take their place at the communion-table 
of Christ! or, to apply a more general test, 
how small a part of them can be said to havi 
had a personal religious experience! 

The majority of young men are unfixed in 
their religious opinions, irresolute in their re- 
ligious purposes, irregular in their religious 
duties. Many of them are unsettled in their 
principles of conduct and have no fixed plan 
of life. They are floating upon the surface of 
society, carried one way or the other by the 
currents of social influence, by the changing 
wind of good or ill success. They are not 
strong; the word of God does not yet abide 
in them ; they have not overcome the wicked 
one. They are trusting, it would seem, to the 



1 



AN APPEAL. 



natural progress of things for their salvation, 
instead of working it out with fear and trem- 
bling. 

Young men ! I speak seriously and earnest 
ly, but do I not speak truly? I would not 
bring an unjust charge, but I fear that there is 
something radically wrong, which needs to be 
corrected. The wrong may be in the speaker, 
more than the hearer ; in the minister, more 
than in the people ; for surely if religion were 
presented, as it ought to be, in its simplicity 
and power, there would not be so many of the 
young who turn away from it, with indiffer- 
ence or contempt. Our churches ought to be 
filled with young men. Our communion-table 
should be crowded with them ; our Sunday 
school, our ministry to the poor, our Christian 
missions, and every religious enterprise, should 
be made prosperous by their cooperation ; and 
this would be the case, if the Gospel of Christ 
were brought home to their hearts as it ought 
to be. That it is not done, is undoubtedly the 
fault of those to whom the dispensation of the 
Gospel is committed. If the truth could be 



10 AN APPEAL. 

preached as it is in Jesus, surely the young 
would hear it. Would to God that I could 
now speak so that every one who hears me 
would feel rebuked for his sinfulness, and go 
from this house with his heart full of that infi- 
nite question, " What shall I do to be saved?" 

This is my reason for speaking so plainly; 
for in plainness of speech is my only hope of 
success. This is the cause of my anxiety ; 
for while there are so many young men who 
show their confidence in me by making this 
the place of their worship, but to whom it is 
not made the savor of life unto life, there is 
reason to fear that my own duty is but imper- 
fectly performed. 

Do not understand me, however, as saying 
or thinking that the salvation of my hearers 
depends upon me. I abhor that arrogance of 
the priestly office, by which such claims are 
made, as though the minister, the servant of 
Christ, were the mediator between God and 
man. Nor can we excuse the worldly-minded 
and indifferent, as though they could plead, 
before the bar of God, the dulness or ineffi- 



AN APPEAL. 11 

ciency of their religious teachers, in palliation 
of their sins. No: your souls are, under God, 
in your own keeping. With the Bible in your 
hands, you have no sufficient excuse for igno- 
rance, nor worldliness, nor sin. With God's 
instructors all around you, and in your own 
hearts, you cannot plead the want of faithful 
teachers. With a mother's blessing resting 
upon your head, and the recollection of a 
mother's words rising unbidden in your hearts, 
you cannot plead the want of motive to lead 
a pure and religious life. 

The ultimate responsibility, therefore, must 
rest with yourselves, even with each one of 
you. Nevertheless, when we look around 
upon the multitude of young men with whom 
this city is filled, and the evil influences to 
which they are exposed ; when we see how 
large a part of them are walking in the broad 
but dangerous road that leads to destruction, 
and how few, comparatively, are even seeking 
for the way of eternal life, we cannot help 
feeling that every one who occupies a Chris- 
tian pulpit has a duty to fulfil towards them, 



12 AN APPEAL. 



which has not yet been perfectly accom 
plished. 

It would be unjust to say that the young 
men of St. Louis, compared with those of 
other cities, are below the general standard. 
I have no sufficient means for making such a 
comparison, but think that, if it were fairly 
made, the judgment would not be against us. 
The average degree of morality and of respect 
for religion is perhaps as high here as else- 
where. When all the circumstances are con- 
sidered, it is higher than could have been rea- 
sonably expected ; but no one will deny that 
there is great room for improvement. The 
standard even of common morality among our 
young men is not so high as it ought to be, 
and religion is too little regarded. We need 
some new element at work among them ; we 
need some stronger influence to counteract the 
worldly and irreligious influences by which 
they are surrounded. 

Look at their numbers. A gray-haired man 
is but now and then seen among us. See how 
early they enter upon the active duties of life. 



^ 



AN APPEAL. 13 

At the age of fifteen or sixteen, they are found 
in their places of business doing their part, and 
before ten years are past, they have become 
the merchants and enterprising men of the 
city. Take away from our city the young 
men, and how little would be left of all its 
present vigor and enterprise ! There is no 
city of the world, probably, in which young 
men occupy a more important position ; none 
in which a greater responsibility, for good or 
evil, rests upon them. Do they feel this as 
they ought? Do they understand the great- 
ness of their work, and the importance of 
doing it well and quickly ? 

It is perceived in part, but not as it ought 
to be. There are some who feel it, but there 
are still more who think only of the fortune 
they have come to seek, and of the pleasures 
they pursue. The cause of religion and of- 
morality, the moral interests of society, the 
progress of truth and goodness, give them no 
concern. If they can obtain the means of 
living, and have enough to spare for their 
amusements, their work is accomplished : and 



14 AN APPEAL. 

in the choice of their amusements they are 
guided, not by their sense of what is right and 
wrong, but by considerations of convenience 
and of custom. What others do, they will 
do ; where others go, they will go. The de 
gree of decency or respectability required b^ 
the circle in which they move, they will try to 
attain, and if they do not sink much below it, 
they are content. Thus evil customs prevail 
more and more ; thus the tendency with so 
many is continually downwards. Thus it 
happens, that hundreds of those who come 
here with general intentions of living a good 
life, breathe an impure atmosphere and be- 
come morally tainted from the very first. 
Thus it is, that so many run a rapid career, 
through frivolity and self-indulgence and sin, 
ending in contempt and ruin. 

Go through our city from one end to the 
other, through its principal streets and sub 
urbs, on the week-day and on the Sabbath 
"We do not ask you to look upon the low 
haunts of vice, the dens of vile iniquity, whose 
secrets you may not even think upon without 



AN APPEAL. 15 

the stain of impurity ; but look at the more 
respectable places of resort, where the cup of 
pleasure is made to sparkle, and the appli- 
ances of luxury are used to introduce the ap- 
pliances of vice. Look in, — you need not 
enter, — look in upon the splendid rooms ap- 
propriated exclusively to tippling and games 
of chance. Consider what enormous profits 
must accrue from such establishments, and 
ask yourselves by whom they are chiefly sup- 
ported. I would speak diffidently upon sub- 
jects on which I am unavoidably to a great 
extent ignorant. We know that those doors 
are darkened, too often, by the forms of men, 
whose proper place is with their wives and 
their children, and even with their children's 
children, at their own homes. A heavy guilt 
do they incur, who, with the soberness of years 
resting upon them and the serious duties of 
mature life to discharge, yet give their counte- 
nance to the dram-shop, — for that is its name 
be it ever so splendid, — and their influence 
to the cause of dissipation and sin. But 
their number I would fain believe is small. 



16 AN APPEAL. 

If I may trust my own observation and 
what is told me by others, the chief responsi- 
bility for the growth of intemperance and 
other forms of vice among us rests upon the 
young themselves ; upon young men, who are 
betrayed into habits which at first seem only 
foolish, but which by rapid growth become 
sinful, because they think that youth will ex- 
cuse them, and that while young they have a 
right to do as they please. Beginning with 
occasional indulgence, feeling that they are 
unobserved, or that what they do is of no im- 
portance one way or the other, they gradually 
form habits which place them among the op- 
ponents of virtue and the devotees of sin. 
Sometimes they stop before it is too late, and 
with saddened hearts begin a life of sobriety 
and usefulness. But even then, ought they 
not to consider that they have been doing an 
incalculable harm to the cause of sound mo- 
rality and religion ; that they have been lend- 
ing their influence to the support of institu- 
tions which are the curse of our community ? 

This is the first ground on which I would 



AN APJeEAL. 17 

appeal to the young men of St. Louis ; name- 
ly, on the ground of their social importance as 
a class, and their individual influence as mem- 
bers of that class. 

In other cities, the young man may plead 
his insignificance as an excuse for self-indul- 
gence in those things which offer a bad exam- 
ple to others. He may say that the institu- 
tions of society are so fixed, that nothing he 
can do will affect them ; that the interests of 
society are in the hands of older persons and 
must be protected by them. But here it is 
not so. Our institutions are not fixed ; our 
standard of morality is not established, and it 
is chiefly for the young men of this city to say 
what it shall hereafter be. Whether they 
know it or not, they are doing a large part 
in giving direction to public opinion and es- 
tablishing the standard of public morality. 
Taken together, they are the strength of the 
city ; individually, every one of them has a 
part to perform. 

You may think that this is an exaggerated 
statement ; but it is not. The character of 
2 



18 



AN APPEAL. 



our young men is now, and for a long time to 
come must be, tae character of our city. The^ 
must settle the point whether intemperance, 
dissipation, licentiousness, profanity, gam- 
bling, and the like, shall be the order of the 
day, or, instead of them, religion, good order, 
sobriety, chastity, and other virtues which be- 
long to the gentleman and Christian. It is 
for them to determine what shall be the stand- 
ard of refinement and education among us ; 
whether we shall be a mere money-loving 
community, buying and selling to get gain, or 
a community in which it is necessary for a 
man to be educated in order to be respected, 
to be refined in order to be tolerated. It is for 
them to say whether literature and the fine 
arts, learning and science, shall take firm root 
among us, or struggle for a feeble existence as 
they do now. Do you say that such things 
properly devolve upon the older and wealthier 
members of the community? We answer, 
that, for several years past, those of our older 
citizens who have large wealth at their com- 
mand, have been giving evidence of their in- 



AN APPEAL. 19 

terest in the welfare of our city. Some of 
them have shown great liberality towards our 
infant institutions of learning and benevo- 
lence, and those who have not yet done so 
are probably only waiting for some opportu- 
nity of enlarged action. We beg them not 
to wait until the hour of death. It is far bet- 
ter to give than to bequeathe ; better, both as 
a service of God and as a benefit to mankind 
We would also remind you, that among the 
wealthier there are found many who yet be- 
long to the ranks of young men, or who are 
just passing into middle life. It is to them 
that we look, and not in vain, to become lead- 
ers in every good movement, promoters of ev- 
ery good cause. That they will respond to the 
call, we have every reason to believe. The 
wealth which they are rapidly accumulating 
in our thriving city, they will generously use 
for the city's best advancement. They are al- 
ready doing so and we trust that it will 
abound more and more. To what nobler use 
can they devote their growing fortunes, than 
to the furtherance of sound knowledge and 



20 AN APPEAL. 

useful information, in the city where they live 
Their prosperity will deserve respect, their de- 
votion to business will become a Christian 
calling, if, as they advance in the road to 
wealth, they plant the trees of knowledge and 
of virtue by the way-side for the benefit of 
those to come after them. We appeal to 
them, as being at the same time the young 
men and the influential men of our city. Let 
them deal towards this community with a lib- 
eral hand and a large heart, and they will find 
therein an exceeding great reward. They will 
find it in well-deserved respect; in the feeling 
that they labor, not for money, but for human- 
ity ; in the consciousness that by their pros- 
perity society is blessed. I know that I speak 
to many such, and that my words do not fall 
upon unwilling ears. We have reason to 
hope that what they have done in time past is 
but the earnest of greater works in the time to 
come. 

But neither from the older nor the wealth- 
ier classes can the chief influence come. It 
must chiefly proceed from that more numer- 



AN APPEAL. 21 

ous dass, who are, comparatively speaking, 
beginners in life ; who have but little to work 
with, except character and example ; who 
must do their part towards forming the com- 
munity aright, by forming themselves aright ; 
who must elevate the general taste, by elevat- 
ing their own taste; who must promote good 
morals, by making their own lives correct; 
who must advance education, by educating 
themselves ; who must give a right direction, 
by themselves going in the right direction. 

This is the great thing to be done, and this 
is what every one can do. Do you ask how ? 
"We answer, let every young man consider the 
great problem of life seriously and with care. 
Let him have a fixed aim ; a purpose which 
he will accomplish, a work which he will do. 
Not the plan for a year only ; not the purpose 
which to-morrow will change; but a fixed 
aim, a life-purpose, to which every thing shall 
be made to bend, which every thing shall be 
made to subserve. We need not say a good 
aim, a good purpose. I defy you to have any 
other, if you adopt it deliberately. You can- 



2Sf AN APPEAL. 

not make up your mind to the devotion oi 
your lives to any mean or worthless pursuit, 
even if you try. You may do the thing itself; 
you may devote yourselves to mere labor, like 
a beast of burden; or to mere pleasure, like 
the worldling; or to iniquity, as though you 
ioved it for its own sake. But this will not 
be from a fixed purpose, as your selected plan 
of life. It will be because you have no plan, 
because you are putting off to some more con- 
venient season the claims of duty and religion. 
Bring yourselves to say, " This shall be my aim 
in life; this is the whole work which my 
whole life shall accomplish " ; and as surely 
as your soul was made in the image of your 
God, you will turn your face heavenward. 
The great delusion of sin is this : we persuade 
ourselves that for a few months or years we 
may live without a fixed aim, and yet go in no 
fixed direction ; that we may continue in cer- 
tain wrong courses, indulging ourselves in sin- 
ful pleasures, giving ourselves only to worldly 
pursuits, and that by and by we will begin a 
new course with a higher aim in life. And 



AN APPEAL. 23 

SO we go onward to our ruin. For he who 
has no fixed aim in a right direction may be 
sure that he is steadily going in a wrong. 
The strong folds of habit will gather round 
him ; his moral tastes will be perverted ; his 
influence will be exerted on the side of evil ; 
his whole life will become a failure. 

Throw your minds forward now, if you can, 
and in imagination place yourselves at the 
closing term of a long life. Let the three- 
score years pass over you, with all their varied 
cares and occupations, until the physical frame 
is already bowing under their influence, and 
the freshness of life has gone, and the account 
must, in the course of nature, soon be rendered 
in. Sit down as at that advanced age, in 
your counting-room, in your office, or at your 
own fireside, and let the former years pass in 
review before you, that you may read the 
record they are bearing onward to eternity. 
Let memory play a faithful part, until the 
whole picture of your life is held up before 
your mind's eye. 

A-t first it comes indistinctly and in con- 



24 AN APPEAL. 

fused lines, but gradually more and more 
plain, until each object is distinctly seen, and 
each event distinctly remembered. The his- 
tory of your life is before you, and, either for 
good or for evil, you are compelled to read it. 
With what different feelings will it be, ac- 
cording to the manner in which your lives 
have been spent! If it is the history of a 
childhood full of promise, in which fond par- 
ents expended the treasures of love upon you, 
and in which the early development of your 
minds gave earnest of a vigorous and manly 
character, but from which you passed to the 
years of wayward and undisciplined youth ; 
if, as the history goes on, it tells you of one 
who advanced in years, but not in knowledge, 
— who was industrious because he was com- 
pelled to be, to gain a living, and whose sur- 
plus means, large or small, were expended for 
idle and unprofitable pleasures, or for foolish 
and sinful indulgences ; if it tells of one who 
had no fixed plan of life, but went forward as 
he was carried by the force of example, to 
which he submitted himself, even when he de- 



AN APPEAL. 25 

spised it ; if it tells you of one whose place in 
the world was merely to do a certain amount 
of daily work and to be paid for it, but whose 
influence upon the real interests of society was 
either negative or baneful ; if it tells you of a 
man whose name is not written with honor 
upon any public record, or upon any enter- 
prise of usefulness or philanthropy ; if, as you 
read the continued history, you see that, so 
far as all the great interests of man are con- 
cerned, — education, refinement, art, morality, 
religion, — the man of whom you are reading 
might as well never have lived at all, — that in 
all these respects his history is a blank, — that 
for all the real uses of life his existence has 
been a failure and a mistake; — young man! 
if this history should be the record of your own 
life, with what feelings would you read it? 
Was it for no more than this that you were 
placed here ? Are you satisfied to think of so 
tame and insignificant a result of a life which 
begins with so many aspiring hopes ? Is this • 
to be the end of all your youthful ambition, — 
a record stale, flat, and unprofitable, which 



26 AN APPEAL. 

you yourself are ashamed to reai, and which 
no one else will either read or remember ? 

Yet I have spoken of no crime. The rec- 
ord which we have now been reading is not 
so much of a wicked life, as of one passed in 
the common routine of events, with nothing 
either very good or very bad to mark it. To 
him who is passing such a life, it seems well 
enough. The finger of scorn is not pointed at 
him; he holds a position comparatively re- 
spectable ; he earns his own living, occasion- 
ally helps a friend or neighbor, and never does 
any thing to bring absolute disgrace upon his 
name. There are so many whose lives are 
worse, that he is tolerably well satisfied with 
himself. But how meagre and unsatisfactory 
must the whole appear, when it passes under 
that stern review at the last ! "When the close 
of life comes, can any one of us be satisfied 
with its result, unless we feel that in some re- 
spect it has been a good thing for the cause 
of humanity and for the glory of Grod, that 
we have lived ? 

What, then, must be the feelings of him, 



AN APPEAL. 27 

who reads the records of a life, not only worth- 
less, but wicked? if that too faithful mem- 
ory recalls days of folly and nights of crime ? 
if dissipation, and revelry, and licentiousness, 
and blasphemy, and violation of trust, and 
broken promises, are the headings of the chap- 
ters, as he reads from page to page? Think 
of one who, in the silent loneliness of old age, 
broods over recollections such as these ! He 
feels that he does not comprehend the depth 
to which he has fallen ; the light of eternity is 
needed to reveal that to him ; but he knows 
enough to be covered with shame, and the de- 
spondency of his heart is but little better than 
despair. Young man ! kneel down and pray 
to your God, that he may save you from such 
a close of life as this ! Pray for early death, 
for poverty, for suffering, for ignominy, rather 
than to be left in the darkness of that sorrow. 
For nothing can come to you in this world, 
which would not seem joy and happiness in 
comparison with this. 

And what difference will it make, if such a 
review of sin comes before you in the gilded 



1^ AN APPEAL. 

ftall of wealth, or under the destitution of pov- 
erty ? Will the gold adorn the record itself, 
so that you can read it pleasantly ? Will it 
become an illuminated page, because the 
headings of those fearful chapters are embel- 
iished with bright coloring, and the volume 
encased in costly binding ? Will " innocence 
seduced," and " virtue corrupted," and " relig- 
ion profaned," appear less hateful on that ac- 
count ? Or will they not seem rather to be 
written in burning letters ; illuminated indeed, 
but as if by the fierceness of fire ? You may 
bribe the world, and buy its good opinion, but 
can you bribe your conscience ? Can you cir- 
cumvent your God ? 

Turn away from so sad a picture. Let the 
retrospect of our life come under what circum- 
stances it may, in riches or in poverty, in a 
position of great influence, or in one of com- 
parative obscurity ; but let it be the retrospect 
of a life well spent, — a life of truth, of honor 
and sobriety, — a life of manly earnestness to 
do whatever we were able to remove the suf- 
ferings of humanity, to educate ourselv^es in 



AN APPEAL. 29 

practical goodness, to promote the cause of 
morality and religion. It may recall no great 
deeds of philanthropy, but if the chambers of 
our imagination contain no pictures of guilt, — 
if in the last review of life we are able hon- 
estly to say, " Religion and morality have not 
suffered at our hands, but by a daily good 
example, and by the faithful use of whatever 
means and influence we possessed, we have 
done whatever we could for God and for 
Christ's sake," — ^^then will the closing days of 
life be to us as the beginning of heaven ; and 
when the world begins to recede from our 
eyes, our hearts will be filled with the peace 
which passeth all understanding. 

I speak unto you, therefore, young men, 
that ye may become strong ; that the word of 
God may abide in you, and that ye may over^ 
come the wicked one. Love not the world, 
neither the things that are in the world. For 
all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, 
and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is 
not of the Father, but is of the world. And the 
world passeth away, and the lust thereof, but 
he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever. 



LECTURE II. 



SELF-EDUCATION. 

•* Get wisdom ; get understanding Take fast hold of instrao* 

tion ; let her not go ; keep her, for she is thy life." — Prov. iv. 5, 13. 

My subject for this evening is self-educa- 
tion. The word is often applied to the acqui- 
sition of knowledge alone, but we now give it 
a more extended and more important applica- 
tion. Not only the intellect needs to be edu- 
cated, but also the tastes, the affections, the 
manners, and the character. There is diver- 
sity of talents, of gifts, and of opportunities. 
It is our duty to use those which we have, to 
the best advantage, and thereby to secure their 
enlargement. 

The majority of young men in this country 
are led, either by necessity or choice, to entei 
upon the active duties of life with an imper- 
fect education, and comparatively unformed 



SELF-EDUCATION. 31 

In character. In older countries a greater de- 
gree of development is required in advance; 
but in this new and vigorous land, it is enough 
if one is able to do the task which immedi- 
ately devolves upon him. He is then set to 
work, and is very often kept so constantly em- 
ployed, that it requires a good deal of resolu- 
tion to find either time or inclination for any 
thing else. There is a strong temptation to 
give up the leisure time which comes, either 
to natural indolence or to frivolous amuse- 
ment. If the temptation is yielded to, the re- 
sult is constant deterioration of character ; 
and, instead of educating himself, the young 
man is soon diverted from the best purposes 
of life, and brought under influences which for- 
bid either his moral or intellectual elevation. 

The great fault of the young under such cir- 
cumstances, as we have already said, is the 
want of a fixed aim, and of resolution in keep 
ing it. There is a want also of self-reliance 
They too readily yield their own principles and 
purposes to those around them, and instead 
of forming themselves after the model which 



32 SELF-EDUCATION. |{ 

they held before them at first, they suffet 
themselves to be formed by others. It is here 
that the importance of self-education is seen. 

The young should begin with a standard of 
excellence before them, to which they should 
resolutely conform themselves. There should 
be a fixed determination to make the best of 
one's self, in whatever circumstances we are 
placed. Let the young man determine, that 
whatever he undertakes, he will do well ; that 
he will make himself master of the business 
upon which he enters, and always prepare 
himself for advancement by becoming worthy 
of it. It is not opportunity of rising which is 
wanting, so often as the ability to rise. It is 
not the patronage of friends and the outward 
helps of fortune, to which the prominent men 
of our country owe their elevation, either in 
wealth or influence, so much as to their own 
vigorous and steady exertions. We hear a 
great many complaints, both among young 
men and old, of the favoritism of fortune and 
the partiality of the world ; but my observa- 
tion leads me to believe, that to a great extent 



SELF-EDUCATION. 33 

those who deserve promotion obtain it. Those 
who are worthy of confidence will have confi- 
dence reposed in them. Those who give evi 
dence of ability and industry will find oppor- 
tunity enough for their exercise. 

Take a familiar illustration. A young man 
engages in some business, who is in every re- 
spect a beginner in life. A common-school 
education is all that he can boast. He knows 
almost nothing of the world, and very little of 
the occupation on which he has entered. He 
performs his duty from day to day sufficiently 
well, and does what he is expected to do. But 
it does not enter his mind to do any thing be- 
yond what is required, nor to enlarge his ca- 
pacities by reading or reflection. He is, at 
the best, a steady, plodding man, who will go 
forward, if at all, very slowly, and will rise, if 
at all, to no great elevation. He is not the 
sort of person who is looked for to occupy a 
higher position. One opportunity of advance- 
ment after another may come directly in his 
reach, and he asks the influence of friends to 
push him upward. They give it feebly, be- 
3 



34 SELF-EDUCATION. 

cause they have no great hope of success, and 
are not confident in their own recommenda- 
tion. As a matter of course, some one else, 
more competent or more earnest, steps in be- 
fore him, and then we hear renewed com- 
plaints of favoritism and injustice. Such an 
one may say in his defence, that he has been 
guilty of no dereliction of duty ; that no fault 
has been found with him, and that therefore 
he was entitled to advancement. But this 
does not follow. Something more than that 
may reasonably be required. To bestow in- 
creased confidence, we require the capacity 
and habit of improvement in those whom we 
employ. The man who is entitled to rise, is 
one who is always enlarging his capacity, so 
that he is evidently able to do more than he is 
actually doing. 

In every department of business, whether of 
the mechanic or merchant, or whatever it may 
De, there is a large field of useful knowledge, 
which should be carefully explored. An ob- 
serving eye and an inquiring mind will always 
find enough for examination and study It 



SELF-EDUCATION. 35 

may not seem to be of immediate use ; it may 
have nothing to do with this week's or this 
year's duty; yet it is worth knowing. The 
mind gains vigor by the inquiry, and the hand 
itself obtains greater skilfulness by the intelli- 
gence which directs it. 

The result is all the difference between a 
mere drudge and an intelligent workman ; be- 
tween the mere salesman or clerk, and the en- 
terprising merchant ; between the obscure and 
pettifogging lawyer, and the sagacious, influ- 
ential counsellor. It is the difference between 
one who deserves to be, and will be, station- 
ary in the world, and one who, having deter- 
mined to make the best of himself, will con- 
tinually rise in influence and true respectabil- 
ity. This whole difference we may see every 
day among those who have enjoyed nearly 
equal opportunities. We may allow some- 
thing to what are called the accidents of social 
influence, and the turns of fortune. But after 
all fair allowance has been made, we shall find 
that the great cause of difference is in the men 
themselves. Let the young man who is be- 



36 SELF-EDUCATION. 

ginning life put away from him all notions of 
advancement without desert. A man of hon- 
orable feelings will not even desire it. He 
will rather shrink from engaging in duties 
which he is not able fairly to perform. He 
will first of all secure to himself the capacity 
of performing them, and then he is ready for 
them whenever they come. 

The truth of what I have now said will be 
admitted by most persons, with application to 
the business in which each one is engaged. 
It will be admitted that the young mechanic 
or the young merchant should inform himself, 
as soon and as thoroughly as possible, in the 
whole range of the occupation in which he has 
embarked. Every one can see the direct util- 
ity of this. But when a larger application is 
given to the same principles, it is often disput- 
ed. It is thought quite unnecessary for those 
who belong to the working world to trouble 
themselves about general information, or to 
educate themselves beyond their immediate 
walk in life. There is almost a prejudice 
against one who devotes much attention tp 



SELF-EDUCATION. 37 

subjects of art or science, or general literature, 
as though such occupations were inconsistent 
with the ordinary routine of business life. 

Nor would I meet this prejudice by too pos- 
itive denial. I am willing to allow that he 
who has his own way to make in the world, 
must fix his eye intently upon some one ob- 
ject of pursuit, and not suffer his mind to be 
distracted from it by any thing else. That 
must be his work in life, to which every other 
pursuit must for the time be subordinate. 
Particularly is this true to the beginner. His 
heart must be in his business. He must lay 
hold upon it with a grasp that nothing can 
loosen. He must attend to its smallest de- 
tails, in preference to things which are in 
themselves a thousand times more important. 
For the present duty is always that which 
must be performed. We cannot excuse our- 
selves for its neglect because it is insignificant 
or disagreeable, nor because something else 
more pleasant and seemingly more profitable 
offers itself. Especially when we are em- 
ployed by others, under an arrangement to do 



38 SELF-EDUCATION. 



TSSi 



a specific work for which we receive compen- 
sation, we are bound to perform every part of 
it faithfully, although to our own loss and dis- 
comfort. We have no right even to improve 
ourselves at the expense of those whom we 
serve. Nor are we wise if we suffer ourselves 
to be diverted from the occupation which we 
have deliberately chosen, for the cultivation of 
taste or the acquisition of knowledge. 

He who neglects his Coke upon Littleton 
for the beauties of Shakspeare may be com- 
mended for his taste, but will never do much 
as a lawyer. He who loves the books in his 
own library so much, that he turns over the 
books in his counting-room with disgust, may 
become a scholar, but not a merchant. What- 
ever is our occupation, therefore, particularly 
while we are young, should be made our chief 
work. It should stand first in our thoughts. 
We should never neglect it for the sake of any 
incidental advantages, however great they may 
appear. But in all this there is nothing in- 
consistent with the work of self-education. 
This steadfastness of purpose, this close ad he 



SELF-EDUCATION. 39 

rence to a fixed plan of life, is in itself a good 
discipline, both for the mind and character. 

Let us make our work a part of the general 
plan of duty and self-improvement, and we 
can bring under the same plan all other things 
which tend to the same result. There is no 
necessity of one part of our duty interfering 
with another. Rightly done, the proper per- 
formance of each part will help all the rest. 

I know the objection which immediately 
arises, when any plan of self-education is pro- 
posed. It is the want of time. But, gener- 
ally speaking, it would come nearer the truth 
to say " want of inclination." Very few per- 
sons are so burdened with work that they can- 
not find one or two hours in the day at their 
own command. It requires, indeed, some res- 
olution to use such time according to a regu- 
lar plan of self-education ; but in that case we 
ought not to plead the want of time, but of 
purpose. The proper and judicious use of one 
hour a day is enough to make any of us well- 
educated men in the course of a few years. 
Make the trial faithfully, and you will be as- 



40 SELF-EDT7CATI0N. 

tonished how much can be accomplished in 
that one hour a day. Some of the profound- 
est scholars and most voluminous writers in 
the world, have confineid themselves to their 
study but two or three hours daily. The rest 
of their time has been given to the active pur- 
suits of life. 

There is, undoubtedly, a part of the year in 
which young men cannot find the hour of 
which I now speak. There is a part of the 
year in which they are overworked as if they 
were beasts of burden. It is a pity, and it 
seems to me wrong that it is so. It is often a 
permanent injury to their health, and such 
seasons of overworking leave them in a state 
of body and mind most unfavorable for the 
work of self-improvement, when the time for 
it is again allowed. He who has been thus 
crowded and overladen for two or three 
months, is apt to feel, when the burden is 
thrown off, that he can relish nothing but 
frivolous amusements or complete idleness. 
Thus, a few months' excessive working be- 
comes an excuse for wasting the leisure time 



SELF-EDUCATION. 41 

of the whole year. But it needs no argument 
to show the folly of this. When every mo- 
ment is occupied with work, we cannot be 
blamed for having no leisure. But when the 
work ceases and the leisure comes, it should 
be all the more diligently used. The great 
majority of young men in this city have their 
evenings to themselves, if nothing more, dur- 
ing seven or eight months of the year. Let 
one half of that time be spent with a view to 
self-education, in the acquisition of knowledge 
and in the improvement of the mind, and how 
great a revolution would be wrought by a few 
years in our city. What a noble class of 
young men would then come forward to oc- 
cupy the prominent places in society. How 
quickly would all the interests of science, of 
literature, of art and philanthropy, flourish 
among us. The foolish and wicked dissipa- 
tions of city life would rapidly decline, and the 
moral wilderness would blossom as the rose. 

We do not deny the necessity of amuse- 
ment and of recreation. Neither bodily nor 
mental health can be secured without them. 



42 SELF-EDUCATION. 

But if our recreations are judiciously selected, 
we shall find time enough for them, without 
interference with more important things. 

It is when we make a business of pleasure 
that it becomes hurtful. It is when we seek 
for amusement in the haunts of dissipation, or 
with wicked companions, that it becomes sin- 
ful. A sensible man can find time enough 
and ways enough for all the recreation he 
needs, without encroachment upon the real 
work of life. I have, indeed, met with a few 
instances in which persons are kept so con- 
stantly at work that they have almost no time 
to themselves. I know young men who, 
through a greater part of the year, are so over- 
tasked, that when the Sunday comes they 
have heart for nothing and are almost fit for 
nothing, except sleeping or idleness, and who 
decline coming to church because they cannot 
keep awake. In such cases their employers 
are guilty of great sin. But they are the ex- 
ceptions which serve to show that it is very 
different with the majority. With nearly all 
there is time enough for the common work of 



SELF-EDUCATION. 43 

the day and for needful recreation, and a sur* 
plus of one or two hours at least for self-im- 
provement. 

We again admit that the proper use of that 
hour or two requires a resolute purpose. It 
must often be done as a duty, rather than as a 
pleasure. But it may be done, and by those 
who take the right view of life it will be done. 
The end in view is worth striving for. It is 
to make ourselves intelligent, thoughtful, and 
well-educated men. 

It is to raise ourselves above mere servants 
and laborers into a position of influence and 
growing usefulness. It is to make men of 
ourselves, and to fit us for the duties which 
men alone can do. If I could induce all who 
hear me to spend the evenings of this coming 
winter with a direct view to self-education, 
they would have reason to thank me for it all 
the rest of their lives. The result of the whole 
ife would be thereby changed, for this is a 
work which, once entered upon, will not be 
abandoned. 

He who begins to grow in knowledge and 




44 SELF-EDUCATION. 

refinement will continue to advance, because 
he learns to love the pursuit. I ask you, 
therefore, to think carefully upon this subject. 
Do you not need this self-education ? 

Are you satisfied to remain as you now are ? 

Can you not see that your usefulness, your 
happiness, and your real respectability would 
be indefinitely increased, by devoting a part 
of each day to the acquisition of knowledge 
and the improvement of your mind ? 

None can be so blind as not to see this ; a 
great many are too indolent to act accordingly. 

But, first of all, as the beginning and foun- 
dation of all improvement, is the distinct ac- 
knowledgment of its necessity. To acknowl- 
edge it in general terms, is not enough. It 
must be felt. As we feel the necessity of food 
when we are hungry, so must we feel the ne- 
cessity of improvement, before we shall suc- 
ceed in gaining it. The young are prevented 
from feeling it, chiefly by two causes ; some- 
times by self-conceit; sometimes by having 
too low a standard of excellence before them. 
We are apt to think better of ourselves in ear- 



SELF-EDUCATION. 45 

ly life than at any subsequent period. As we 
grow older and wiser we feel our deficiencies 
more, for it requires a certain degree of knowl- 
edge to know how much is to be learned. 
Our ideal of excellence also remains low until 
the mind and character are developed. Thus, 
from the two causes together, we are easily 
satisfied in youth with attainments of which 
in after years we would feel ashamed. This 
same experience we go through, most proba- 
bly, whether we are scholars, or men of busi- 
ness, or men of the world. Accordingly you 
will find many young men, who account 
themselves complete merchants and accom- 
plished gentlemen, when in fact they are but 
beginners, and perhaps give but a bad prom- 
ise for the future in either department. 

It requires a great deal to make an accom- 
plished gentleman. It is not only to wear 
good clothing in a way which shows that one 
is used to it, or to be free from awkward- 
ness in manners, although this is something. 
There must be an accomplished mind. There 
must be delicacy of feeling and refinement of 



46 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



taste. For all this will show itself in the 
manners of a gentleman. Without it there 
may be a kind of polish, — that which the 
dancing-master and the clothing-store can 
give, — which is the highest ambition of many 
persons to attain. Many a dapper and spruce 
young gentleman is as proud of its attain- 
ment, as if it were a sufficient passport to per- 
fect gentility ; but it is not so. To be an ac- 
complished gentleman, one must be a thinking 
and well-educated man. No external polish 
can take the place of the thoughtful mind 
which gives a manly expression to the fea- 
tures, and the refinement of taste which be- 
stows grace and gentleness upon the deport- 
ment. 

In like manner does it require a great deal 
to make a complete merchant. Merely to buy 
and to sell, to know how to make a shrewd 
bargain, to understand the quality of the com- 
mon articles of merchandise, is very far from 
being all. All of this may be learned by one 
who cannot speak his own language correctly, 
dnd who has no conception of the real uses of 



SELF-EDUCATION. 47 

trade. Commerce is the great civilizing agent 
of the world. Let it work as it ought to do, 
hand in hand with knowledge and virtue and 
religion, and it is the messenger of peace and 
good-will among men. The merchant who 
understands the nobleness of his calling, occu- 
pies a position far above that of mere buying 
and selling. He cannot be narrow-minded ; 
he cannot stoop to the mean and tricky con- 
trivances, by which men overreach each oth- 
er. He is not contented merely to make 
money and to spend it. He takes a large 
view of society and its interests. His inter- 
course with different parts of the world frees 
his mind from prejudice, and prepares him to 
receive light from whatever quarter it may 
come. He feels it to be his duty to introduce 
into the community where he lives, all the 
means of improvement which are found else- 
where. Thus regarded, commerce becomes an 
nterchange of ideas as well as of goods. But 
to make it so, those who conduct it must be 
men of intelligence, of refinement, and of truth. 
The young man who enters upon such a ca- 



48 SELF-EDUCATION. 

reer should feel respect for his calling. He 
should determine to qualify himself by self- 
culture, by the acquisition of knowledge and 
the practice of virtue, to become a complete 
merchant, to rise to the head of his profes- 
sion. No man need to have a more honorable 
ambition than that. It will task all his pow- 
ers ; it will give room for the exercise of his 
best faculties and for the use of his highest 
attainments. How sad it is to see so many, 
with such a career before them, contented to 
remain all their lives with no higher ideas than 
to write a good hand, or to make a close bar- 
gain! There is no scholarly profession better 
calculated to enlarge the mind and elevate the 
character than the pursuits of commerce ; yet 
they are often debased to the most pitiful uses, 
and those who engage in them often remain 
through their whole lives ignorant and uned- 
ucated. 

To prevent such a result the young man 
who enters upon this career should take him- 
self in hand. He should place his standard 
of excellence very high, and use all the means 



SELF-EDUCATION. 49 

in his reach to attain it. Chiefly through self- 
culture, in the daily acquisition of knowledge, 
and by a manly and honorable course of life, 
he should make himself worthy of his calling, 
and of the highest honors it can bring. How 
different will be the whole tenor of his life, if 
he enters upon it with such views as these! 
How easy will it be to resist the enticements 
of pleasure and the allurements of vice! With 
what instinctive disgust will he shrink from 
low associates and the vulgarity of dissipa- 
tion. With such an end in view, how easy 
will it be to find time for reading and oppor- 
tunity for self-improvement. 

With such a purpose in his heart from day 
to day, he is secured from the temptations to 
which youth is chiefly exposed, and has only 
to press forward to secure the highest reward 
which a true ambition can ask. 

We might go through nearly the same 

ourse of remark with regard to the mechanic. 

The mere workman does not seem to occupy 

an elevated place in society ; although, if he 

does his work well and conducts himself with 

4 



50 SELF-EDUCATION. 

honesty and sobriety, he occupies a place of 
usefulness and is worthy of respect. By the 
force of character, if he has no other advan- 
tages, he may work his way to confidence and 
to high estimation among men. But there is 
no necessity of his remaining a mere work- 
man. In this country, as large and as good a 
field of action is open before him as before any 
other. If he has the natural ability and will 
use the opportunities of improvement offered 
to him, he may rise to as great height as he 
can reasonably desire. Look at the triumphs 
of art and the perfection to which the science of 
mechanics has been brought in our day. Look 
at the names which society delights to honor^ 
in this country and in England, and see how 
many are of men who began at the work- 
bench or at the forge, and who, by the appli- 
cation of their minds to the work in which 
they engaged, carved for themselves a way to 
distinction and usefulness. The name of 
"mechanic" has long ceased to be one of so- 
cial contempt. Let the young mechanic learn 
to be a thinkins: and observing: man, and he 



SELF-EDUCATION. 51 

will find as easy and as rapid progress in the 
world as through any other calling. There is 
certainly nothing in work itself to degrade the 
mind ; but, on the contrary, we are more apt 
to find the development of practical and sound 
udgment in. the workshop than in the study. 
Only let the same pains be taken to improve 
the mind, and the workingman would have 
the advantage. We admit, as we have al- 
ready done, that it requires strong resolution 
in one who has been closely employed all day, 
to turn his attention to the work of self-culture 
at night. But it is certainly not impossible 
nor impracticable, for many do it ; and my ob- 
ject in speaking is to inspire such resolution in 
those who hear me. If it were a thing that 
could be done without effort, it would proba- 
bly be not so well worth the doing. 

There never was a country or an age, in 
which greater opportunities were offered to 
young men than our own. The age is one in 
which all the elements of advancing civiliza- 
tion are at work. Our country is, perhaps, the 
only one in the world which offers a fair and 



52 SELF-EDUCATION. 

equal field for the competition of all who enter 
upon it. There is every excitement for the 
young man to lay hold upon his work in life, 
with the vigorous determination to make the 
most of himself and to play his part in the 
world manfully. Society places no obstacles 
in the way of his advancement. There are no 
serious difficulties to be overcome, except in 
himself. If he remains obscure and useless, it 
is his own fault. If he fails to become a well- 
educated and influential man, it is not for the 
want of opportunity, but of industry and en- 
terprise. 

Look particularly at the position which our 
own city occupies, and see if a young man 
could reasonably ask a nobler sphere of action, 
or better opportunities of self-advancement, 
than are offered here. In this great Western 
valley, w^hich is destined to become the garden 
of the world, and will contain in itself a great- 
er population than that of the whole United 
States at this time, our city is one of the chief 
points of "nfluence. By a remarkable growth 
it now contains nearly a hundred thousand in- 



SELF-EDUCATION. 53 

habitants, and every thing indicates that its fu- 
ture increase will be as rapid as the past. We 
shall have no reason to be surprised if in a few 
years its present number is doubled. A grand 
system of internal improvement is now begun, 
by which, if we take hold of it as we ought, 
this city will become the centre of a com- 
merce as great as that of our largest Eastern 
cities now. In ten years' time its railroads 
will stretch from the sources to the mouth of 
the Mississippi, and from the Atlantic to the 
Pacific Ocean. The imagination loses itself 
in the grandeur of such enterprises ; but they 
seem chimerical only because they are so 
great. They are perfectly practicable, for the 
resources at command are equal to the work, 
and the benefits realized at each advancing 
step will secure their ultimate completion. 

A prudent man may hesitate to say what 
the West and its leading cities will become, 
for fear of being accounted visionary. But I 
doubt if any expectations have been formed 
so sanguine that they will not be accom- 
plished and surpassed. 

But with the possibility of such a future 



54 



SELF-EDUCATION. 



before us, what manner of men ought those to 
be to whom the vital interests of society are 
intrusted? ' In what manner shall they do 
their part now, so as to secure the prosperity 
for which we hope, and prepare themselves to 
meet its responsibilities ? What kind of 
young men are needed in an infant city which 
promises to grow to such a robust manhood? 
It is not those who spend their time in the 
tavern and at the billiard-table ; not those 
whose best ambition is to make a good figure 
in the ball-room and the dance; not those 
who pride themselves in their dress and equi- 
page ; not those whose only ambition in life is 
to become rich ; but we need those who, keep- 
ing themselves free from idle dissipation, begin 
their career with frugality and honorable in- 
dustry, and, in every step of their progress, 
take pains to educate themselves, to develop 
their minds, to mature their character, to 
strengthen their judgment; so that, as their du- 
ties in life become more important, they will 
be able to perform them with faithfulness. 
We need young men who have an honorable 
ambition in life ; determined to be useful ac- 



SELF-EDUCi\TION. 55 

cording to their ability, and to increase their 
ability by diligent self-culture and the prac- 
tice of virtue. Give us a class of young men 
such as this, and what a glorious future ours 
would be. For I would again say, it is upon 
the young men that it chiefly depends. The 
older and wealthier portion of the community 
may do their part ; but the tone of society, 
the intellectual and moral character of our 
city, ten or twenty years hence, depends chief- 
ly upon those who are young now. Almost 
every thing that is needed for the moral and 
jntellectual growth of this community is yet 
to be done. A beginning is scarcely made. 
Institutions of almost every kind are yet to be 
founded, or, if already begun, need to be fos- 
tered and strengthened. In every department 
of philanthropy, of religious and moral enter- 
prise, laborers are needed. But still more than 
this. There is need of a more elevated pub- 
lic opinion, of greater refinement of taste, of a 
higher standard of morality, of more profound 
respect for religion. We need an army drawn 
out in battle array against the six hundred 
bar-rooms of the citv, and against the thou- 



56 SELF-EDUCATION. 



% 



sand demoralizing influences so busily at 
work among us. Where shall we find the 
growing strength that is needed against the 
growing evil, except in the vigor of youthful 
manliness ? Where shall we find recruits for 
that peaceful army, except among young men, 
whose own interests are chiefly in peril ? 

Finally, let us remember that the chief in- 
fluence which every one of us exerts is the in- 
fluence of character. This is an individual 
work, and it is the most important work that 
any one of us can do. We do it faithfully, in 
proportion as we keep ourselves from the pur- 
suit of folly, from the commission of sin ; in 
proportion as we grow in excellence and use- 
fulness ; in proportion to our attainment of 
the Christian graces and to our practice of the 
Christian virtues. Young men, what motive 
is wanting to secure your diligence and faith- 
fulness, when the very same course of life will 
conduct you to self-respect, to honor among 
men, and to the approbation of God ? There 
fore, get wisdom, get understanding. Take 
fast hold of instruction ; let her not go ; keep 
her, for she is thy life. 



LECTUUE III. 



LEISURE TIME. 

" See th.en that ye walk circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, r© 
deeming the time." — Eph. v. 15, 16. 

The great diff'erence between young men, 
with regard to the work of self-improvement, 
' comes from the different manner in w^hich they 
employ their leisure time. The working day 
is very much the same to all. A specific task 
is to be done, and the motive for its faithful 
performance is so urgent, that it is not likely 
to be neglected, except by those who have al- 
ready taken a good many steps towards be- 
coming worthless. But in the manner of 
spending their leisure time, the greatest possi- 
ble difference is found, and from this, in the 
course of years, proceeds almost the whole dif- 
ference among men. He who spends his lei- 



58 



LEISURE TIME. 



sure time well, is an improving man ; he who 
spends it badly, is one who will remain sta- 
tionary or go downward. 

By leisure time, we mean, chiefly, the even- 
ing and the Sabbath. For although, during 
the day, there are a great many hours quite 
idle, the etiquette of business is understood to 
forbid the young man to do any thing with 
such unemployed time, except to lounge about 
the store or stand upon the pavement. I am 
not able to perceive the necessity of this ; but 
as the rule is universal, I take for granted that 
it is founded on right. Otherwise, I should 
suppose that it would be far better both for 
employers and employed, when perhaps five 
or six young men have almost nothing to do, 
for several months in the year, that they should 
be encouraged in some regular plan of self-im- 
provement ; but having no practical knowl- 
edge upon the subject, I do not venture to ex- 
press an opinion. 

The leisure time of which we speak at pres- 
ent, is that which young men have entirely at 
their own control. It does not belong to the 



LEISURE TIME. 59 

business hours, and they may use it to good 
or bad purpose or to no purpose, just as they 
please. From the manner in which they 
please to use it, I repeat, the ultimate differ- 
ence in their characters and their prospects in 
life will chiefly depend. 

This may not at first be admitted. Young 
men are apt to think that, if their working 
hours are well employed, it is no matter what 
becomes of the rest; that it is their own time, 
for which they are responsible to nobody. 
But they will discover, before life closes, that 
they are responsible for it to their own con- 
sciences and to God. The sum of their re- 
sponsibility and the result of their whole lives, 
for good or evil, depends upon this more than 
upon any thing else. 

We grant that a single evening, whether 
idled away or well used, is no very great mat- 
ter ; yet perhaps that single evening may 
bring the commencement of a long train of 
vices, which ends in complete ruin. We grant 
that a single Sunday, devoted to amusement, 
may have no great influence upon the general 



60 LEISURE TIME. 

character ; yet that one day misspent may be 
the first step towards a life of irreligion. But 
it is not of single violations of duty that we 
are now speaking, nor of the manner in which 
we spend the leisure time of a single day. I 
speak of the habit of life. How are your even- 
ings generally spent ? To what employment 
is your Sunday generally devoted ? Answer 
that question for a year, and I will tell you, 
with almost absolute certainty, whether you 
are growing better or worse in character ; 
whether the tendency of your whole lives is 
upward or downward. Answer that ques- 
tion for a series of ten years, and we need 
nothing else to determine the degree of your 
real respectability and usefulness in the 
world. If I am to decide upon a man's char- 
acter, I desire to know nothing more than 
this, — How are his evenings and his Sun- 
days passed ? 

It is for the want of paying regard to this, 
that we are so often deceived in the real char- 
acter of business men. We see one, for in- 
stance, who is every day punctually at hir 



LEISURE TIME. 61 

work, and who, through all the business hours, 
is found in his proper place. He is attentive 
and industrious there, and we pronounce him 
a good business man and repose unlimited 
confidence in him. All at once, we find that 
his character is rotten at the core. He abuses 
our confidence, neglects our interests, and 
proves altogether unworthy of trust. We are 
completely astonished at such a development. 
We speak of it as if it were a sudden change 
of character, for which it is impossible to ac- 
count. But if we had known, for several 
years before, to what pursuits his leisure time 
was devoted, we should have anticipated the 
result, long before it actually came. There 
probably has been for many years some cor- 
rupting influence, some vile habit of dissipa- 
tion or self-indulgence, by which the character 
has been gradually undermined ; and although 
the fall itself seems to be sudden, the causes 
which led to it have long been at work. Our 
knowledge of the world should teach us never 
to put great confidence in any man's virtue or 
honesty, unless we know to what pursuits his 



62 LEISURE TIME. 

leisure time is given. Then it is that his real 
tendencies show themselves. Then it is, when 
no longer under the external pressure of busi- 
ness, that he acts himself out most freely ; and 
if you find that his tastes are then depraved, 
that his pleasures are low, that his compan- 
ions are dissipated or vulgar, you may mark 
him as an unsafe man, who, sooner or later, 
will prove himself unworthy of respect or con- 
fidence. 

Take, for illustration, two general plans of 
life in the employment of leisure time. We 
need not select extreme cases, either of good 
or bad, but such as are met with in every day's 
observation. 

There are many who, when the day's work 
is over, are guided by no particular rule with 
regard to their evenings. They have no feel- 
ing of duty upon the subject. To get rid of 
the time in some way, so that it may not be 
tedious, is their only thought. A half-hour or 
more they idle about their hotels in very un- 
profitable conversation and in laughter, which 
is apt to be loud in proportion as the cause 



LEISURE TIME. 63 

which excites it is objectionable. Thence they 
stroll in groups of two or three together, per- 
haps to some stylish saloon, either with or 
without the intention of drinking, but gener- 
ally it results in their " taking something," and 
with some other groups, engaged in the same 
employment of killing time, the conversation 
becomes still more unprofitable and the mirth 
more boisterous. The billiard-room or bowl- 
ing-alley demands their next attention, and 
there, perhaps, the rest of the evening is spent; 
or if not, the transition is to some other amuse- 
ments of about the same grade. Occasionally 
a little improvement is made upon this, by 
giving the evening and a great part of the 
night to the ball-room, where there is at least 
the refining influence of ladies' society, and, 
generally speaking, the absence of vulgarity 
and dissipation. Occasionally the concert- 
room affords a more refined and unobjection- 
able employment, or the theatre mingles with 
the entertainment some elements of instruc- 
tion and intellectual enjoyment. Occasion- 
ally, when these different resorts become tire- 



64 LEISURE TIME. 

some or too expensive, or when some particu- 
lar temptation comes in the way, the evening 
is given to what is called a frolic, in which the 
elements of sin are mingled far enough to give 
piquancy and novelty to the entertainment, 
without awakening the severe reproaches of 
conscience. 

Such is the history of the evening. We 
have not spoken of intemperance, of gambling 
and licentiousness, for these do not come till 
afterwards. We are speaking only of that 
mode of life into which young men fall, be- 
cause they have no particular rule of conduct, 
no fixed principle of life. Their Sundays will 
be in general of the same sort, with perhaps a 
greater touch of respectability, resulting from 
their early associations with the day. They 
rise very late ; spend an unusual time over 
the newspaper ; devote three or four hours to 
novel-reading, and two or three more, perhaps, 
after the dinner hour has been prolonged as 
much as possible, to an afternoon ride, in the 
progress of which it will be strange if some- 
thing very much like dissipation does not oc- 



LEISURE TIME. 65 

cur. Sometimes, but probably at long inter- 
vals, they find leisure to visit a church ; but 
they do not feel quite comfortable there : for 
if the minister is faithful, he touches their con- 
sciences too much, and if not faithful, he is 
sure to be dull ; so that their visits become less 
and less frequent, until they completely cease. 
Sometimes they find their way to their count- 
ing-rooms or other places of business, and ei- 
ther by themselves, or with some customer, 
who has been introduced at a side door, they 
devote a few hours to their ordinary week-day 
work. Sometimes, and more frequently as 
time progresses, they join regular pleasure-par- 
ties, which, upon the steamboat or elsewhere, 
are contrived for the profanation of the Sab- 
bath upon a large scale. 

We have not here spoken of an extreme 
case, although tolerably bad. You will find a 
great many such, among those who call them- 
selves respectable and moral young men 
You will also find a great many who are no 
longer young, but whose children are growing 
i?p around them, the history of whose Sundays 



66 LEISURE TIME. 

and other leisure time is very much what has 
now been given. 

The question we have now to ask is, "What 
must be the effect of such a manner of life up- 
on the whole character? Take a series of 
years, and what must be its influence upon 
the mind and heart? Is a man likely to grow 
better under this discipline, or rather this want 
of discipline, or is he not quite certain to grow 
worse ? Is he in a course of self-education 
which will result in manliness of character, re- 
finement of taste, true elegance of manners, or 
largeness of thought? Is he likely to retain 
his self-respect, his purity of feeling, or his 
scrupulousness of conscience ? Is he on the 
road to become a useful and good man, or the 
contrary ? I think that the questions scarcely 
need an answer. They answer themselves, or 
if not, you have only to look upon those who 
try the experiment, and you will find an an- 
swer to fill you with sadness and regret. 

Take, then, an illustration of a different 
course, and, again, take not an extreme case, 
such as might never occur in real life, but such 



LEISURE TIME. 67 

as may be met with every day. It would be 
easy to describe a manner of life entirely free 
from all follies, in which not a day nor an hour 
is wasted ; in which the whole energies are 
devoted to usefulness and self-improvement. 
But a model character like this is so rarely 
met with, that it seems like an imaginary pic- 
ture, and its perfection causes a feeling of dis- 
couragement. As a teacher of morality, I 
would not be unreasonable in exaction. It 
is not well to expect too much. Something 
may be allowed to waywardness and youthful 
irresolution, and to the natural love of amuse- 
ment. 

It is well, however, sometimes to hold be- 
fore us an ideal of unsullied excellence, of un- 
stained purity, of undivided allegiance to duty. 
It would be well for us to picture to ourselves 
what a young man might become, if his whole 
heart were given to the pursuit of goodness 
and wisdom. If we could follow such a one, 
as he resists one temptation after another, as 
he adds to his daily store of useful knowledge, 
as he cultivates in himself every Christian 



68 



LEISURE TIME. 



grace and manly virtue, conforming himself 
diligently to that standard of life which the 
Gospel has ordained, it would be impossible 
not to feel respect for the heroism of his daily 
life, and admiration for the victory which he 
daily obtains. Such a contemplation would 
be a rebuke to our own indifference, and would 
make us feel how far short we are falling of 
our duty. We wonder that there are not more 
who take hold of life with this spirit. We 
wonder that there are so few who determine 
to make the very best of themselves, to make 
the most of their intellectual and moral 
strength in the service of God and man. But 
it is not one in a thousand, — no, nor in ten 
thousand, — who can honestly say that he is 
doing so. We excuse ourselves in so many 
deliberate omissions of duty, we waste so 
much time for the want of system in spending 
it, we allow so many faults of character for the 
want of resolution in correcting them, that, 
even when our general intention is good, we 
do not rise to one half the excellence of which 
we are capable. 



LEISURE TIME. 69 

In our present treatment of the subject, how- 
ever, while we would make things better if we 
could, let us take them as they are. We do 
not figure to ourselves, therefore, a model 
young man, in whom there are no faults and 
who never wastes an hour of his time ; but 
one who is guided by prudence and a sense 
of duty in his ordinary life ; who takes pains 
to avoid the follies and dissipations which un- 
dermine the character, and to educate himself 
as a man and as a Christian, by the attain- 
ment of useful information. After his day's 
work is done, we may leave him sufficient 
time for rest and recreation. We do not limit 
him too closely, as to the number of hours in 
the week to be allowed for such purposes ; 
only let him remember one thing, to carry his 
conscience with him wherever he goes and to 
whatever amusement he enters upon ; for con- 
science belongs to our leisure not less than to 
our working time. He keeps himself away, 
therefore, from every haunt of vice. He 
avoids bad companions and takes pains to se- 
lect good society. If some of his time is spent 



70 LEISURE TIME. 

idly, no part of it will be spent badly ; and af- 
ter all allowance of this sort has been made, 
he will find a part of every day and a great 
many hours in every week, for judicious read- 
ing and study. The general purpose of self- 
education is never forgotten, and more or less 
rapidly the work is accomplished. His Sun- 
days are spent either in good society of friends 
and kindred, or in the perusal of books, cho- 
sen with a view to instruction rather than 
amusement; or in the performance of some 
work of Christian charity and kindness. His 
church will not be neglected, but, as a regular 
habit, either once or twice in the Sunday he 
goes there, not only as a habit, but for the 
worship of God and to seek his blessing. 

Surely we have described no standard of 
ideal excellence here. Many would say that 
it is but a tame and insufficient character, 
which the pulpit ought not to hold up for imi- 
tation. It is the least that might be expected 
of one educated by Christian parents, and who 
acknowledges his responsibility to God. Yet, 
imperfect as it is, it is far above the actual at- 



LEISURE TIME. _ 71 

tainments of the majority of young men, and a 
wonderful improvement in society would take 
place if they could be elevated even to this point. 

But the more important remark to be made 
at present is this : That the result of such a 
course of life, followed through a series of 
eight or ten years, would be to elevate those 
who follow it in their own self-respect and in 
the respect of the conimunity. They would, 
from year to year, become more intelligent, 
more thoughtful and better men. They would 
be removed further and further from the influ- 
ences of vice ; and would appear more and 
more as the friends of virtue. 

Compare them, at the end of ten years, with 
that class of young men whom we described 
a few minutes ago. In the beginning of their 
career a careless observer would not have seen 
the difference in the direction they were tak- 
ing. But the two roads which lie almost to- 
gether at first, rapidly diverge from each other, 
until it appears that one of them has led to 
worthlessness and infamy, and the other to 
usefulness and virtue. 



72 . LEISURE TIME. 

And wherein has tlie difference consisted? 
Simply in the different use of leisure time, in 
the different manner in which the evening and 
the Sunday have been passed. It is the dif- 
ference between two or three hours a day well 
spent and the same time wasted. The whole 
problem of life has been settled by those few 
hours, which are generally thought of no im- 
portance, and which young men are apt to feel 
may be thrown away whenever they please. 

The most obvious, and perhaps the most 
important means of self-improvement, is read- 
ing. Books are food to the mind. Well-se- 
lected books, like wholesome food, impart 
strength and vigor, and bring the mind to its 
full growth. But as all food is not whole- 
some, and we may use that which is poison- 
ous or hurtful, so there is a great deal of read- 
ing which is poisonous and hurtful to the 
mind. 

We would not condemn all fictitious works 
as belonging to this class. The taste for such 
writings, whether in prose or poetry, is as nat- 
ural to us as any other intellectual tendency. 



LEISURE TIME. 73 

Particularly wnen we are young, they are re- 
ceived with a relish that no other books can 
impart. A great deal of the instruction that 
we receive comes in this form ; and although 
we may admit that this mode of making study 
attractive and learning easy has been carried 
much too far, we should be quite unwise to 
reject it altogether. 

I cannot help saying, however, although it 
is only by the way, that the inordinate love of 
novel-reading which marks this generation 
probably proceeds from the multiplication of 
juvenile books of fiction, of which our Sunday 
schools and day schools are full. One would 
think, to look at them, that there is no way of 
inculcating a good moral, except by clothing 
it in a fictitious tale of love and danger. 
Books of instruction are scarcely put into the 
hands of the young, unless they are first dis- 
guised. Then, like the sugar-covered medicine, 
they are taken ; but unfortunately, by a per- 
verse mental digestion, the medicinal proper- 
ties are too often rejected and the sugar alone 
retained. Even arithmetic and geography are 



74 LEISURE TIME. 

made to undergo a diJuting and disguising 
process, so as to save the young, as far as pos« 
sible, from all exertion of thought. It is not 
surprising that children educated in this way 
refuse to read, as they grow older, except 
under the same condition of being amused. 
These remarks, however, are leading me away 
from my present subject. 

We do not condemn the reading of fiction, 
as being in itself wrong or hurtful. Many 
books which come under this class may be 
read, not only with safety, but with profit, by 
almost any one. The danger arises in such 
reading, first, from its engrossing too much of 
our time, and secondly, from a bad selection 
of the books read. 

No one need expect to become a wise or 
well-educated man by novel-reading. As giv- 
ing rest or recreation to the mind it is very 
well, but not for substance of thought and 
maturity of intellect. 

One might as well expect to gain strength 
to his body from sweetmeats and confection- 
ery, as for his mind from works of fiction. 



LEISURE TIME. 75 

The very best of them should be used as an 
occasional refreshment; considered as the dai- 
ly food, they are absolutely pernicious. The 
young person who becomes a confirmed novel- 
reader, with a work of fiction always on hand, 
undergoes a process of mental deterioration 
more rapidly than he is aware. You might 
as well expect to make a person religious, by 
the pitiful dilutions of Christianity which ap- 
pear under the head of religious novels at the 
present day, as to educate yourselves by his- 
torical romances, — from Waverley down to 
the latest of the fruitful brain of James. He 
who is seeking for self-improvement will read 
them sparingly. 

So much may be said even of the better 
class of fiction. But what shall we say of 
that, whose very touch is defilement ? which 
we compliment if we only call it trash, and 
with which to become acquainted is to bid 
farewell to all purity of thought and all refine- 
ment of feeling ? It would be better not to 
know how to read, than to read it. He who 
holds it in his hand is proclaiming his own 



76 LEISUUE TIME. 

vu garity of taste, and is doing openly that 
which he should be ashamed to do in secret. 
I do not fear to speak too strongly. I have 
not read, if it were all told, a hundred pages 
of such literature in my life ; yet I feel that 
even in that a serious mistake was com- 
mitted, and it would have been far better not 
to have seen it. As iron-rust upon the hand, 
which stays there until it wears off, so is an 
impure thought suggested to the mind, or a 
vile picture painted upon the imagination. 
We would implore the young to keep their 
hands off from such books, and to turn their 
minds away from the pollution which such 
books bring. If you have already learned to 
enjoy reading them, you have reason to trem- 
ble for your safety. For he who relishes the 
record of that which is vile, is almost prepared, 
himself, to be guilty of the same vileness. 

To form a more correct taste in reading is 
by no means difficult. At first it may require 
some effort, but, like every other habit, soon 
becomes easy and pleasant. Biography, his- 
tory, the higher departments of polite litera- 



LEISURE TIME. 77 

ture, works of art and science, are within ev- 
ery one's reach. At first they may seem less 
attractive than the light and flashy reading, 
for which they are so much neglected ; but in 
a little while they become far more interest- 
ing, and with every page you read, you feel 
that you are taking a step in knowledge and 
refinement. They may not come under the 
head of amusement, and it is not as such that 
I would recommend them, but experience will 
prove to you that they supply healthy recrea- 
tion to the mind and prepare it for the return- 
ing duties of the next day, far better than 
books which produce an unhealthy excitement, 
or pleasures by which the body has been fa- 
tigued and the mind exhausted. It is not as 
amusement that we recommend them, but as 
a study, and as a means of self-education. 
Time enough for amusement may be found 
beside. Can we not spare one or two hours a 
day, if not as a pleasure, then as a duty, in 
preparing ourselves for the real work of life, 
for doing our part as men and as Christians 
in society. In an age like this, where knowl- 



78 LEISURE TIME. 

edge is almost in the atmosphere we breathe 
can we content ourselves with ignorance ? In 
a country where a good education is an essen- 
tial requisite to respectability and in which 
vulofar-minded and uninformed men find it ev- 
ery day harder to rise, shall we refuse to make 
the needful exertion to educate ourselves, so 
as to deserve respect and to command influ- 
ence ? If I am speaking to those who are in- 
different to such things, my words will be in 
vain ; but if you desire them, if you wish to 
deserve respect, if you wish to obtain influ- 
ence, if you wish to become useful by the best 
exertion of your faculties, then you will be 
ready to take some pains in its accomplish- 
ment. You will not expect so great a result 
without systematic and long-continued effort. 

Let me therefore advise you, as your friend, 
to use a part of every day for careful and stu- 
dious reading. Begin, if you please, with one 
hour, or even with less, but let it be done as a 
duty. It will bring its enjoyment, but let it 
be done as a duty. 

Let your first aim be to supply the deficien- 



LEISURE TIME. 79 

cies )f early education. Do not smile at the 
suggestion of a grammar and dictionary. I 
know business men who cannot tell where the 
places with which they trade are situated, and 
who cannot write a commercial letter without 
violations both of good grammar and correct 
spelling. It would be no disgrace to them, 1 
think, to have Murray and Webster within 
reach. To a shallow mind this may seem 
boy's work, but if you will read the lives of 
the most eminent scholars, you will find that 
they are always learners. The best educated 
man must frequently return to the rudiments 
of knowledge, to see that the foundation is 
well laid. How much more is such a course 
needful to those who have never gone beyond 
a common school education, and to whom 
even that was very imperfect. 

Such is the case with the great majority of 
young men who enter upon business. They 
are not beyond the necessity of schooling. 
They need elementary instruction. They are 
uninformed upon subjects upon which contin- 
ued ignorance is inexcusable. They are not to 



80 LEISURE TIME. 

blame for this; but they are to blame if they 
take no pains to supply the acknowledged de 
ficiency. There is no necessity for their re- 
maining ignorant or uneducated. Nay, there 
is no excuse for it. The means of self-educa- 
tion are within reach of all, not only books, 
but teachers, if need be, and the only thing 
wanting is sufficient resolution and industry 
to use them. 

As to the choice of books and the course of 
reading to be followed by each one, no gen- 
eral rule can be given. This must depend 
upon the taste and previous education of each 
individual. But every young man should 
have some method, both in the choice of 
books and in using them. Beside his lighter 
reading, which is partly for amusement's sake^ 
let him always have some one book, at least, 
or some one branch of study, to which his 
careful attention is every day directed. He 
will reap from this a double benefit; first, in 
his direct improvement, in the discipline of his 
mind and in the acquisition of knowledge ; 
and secondly, by the employment of time 



LEISURE TIME. 81 

which might otherwise hang heavily upon his 
hands or be devoted to idle amusements, 
which lead to worse than idle results. He 
would also find himself, by such a course, re- 
moved from the worst temptations to which 
the young are exposed. Bad companionship 
in idle hours is the common way to ruin. But 
he who is daily elevating his mind, by reading 
and study, will soon lose the taste for such 
companionship. He will find no pleasure in 
vulgarity or dissipation, and no sympathy with 
those who are guilty of them. He will avoid 
the bar-room and gambling-table, as much 
through good taste as through good principle. 
He will therefore at the same time feel less 
temptation to do wrong and find greater en- 
joyment in doing right. 

To secure this result, however, he must add 
to his daily reading one book, which by many 
is thought old-fashioned, but which is not yet, 
thank God, out of print. It is the cheapest 
book in the world, and from whatever point 
of view we regard it, the best. It is tlie book^ 
the Bible. Considered as history, it is the old- 
6 



82 LEISURE TIME. 

est and best authenticated ; considered as po- 
etry, it is the noblest, the most original and 
exalted ; considered as a system of morality, 
it is absolii:ely perfect ; considered as religion, 
it is sufficient both for time and eternity. 

Set aside, if you please, all thought of its 
divine authority, and regard it as you do other 
books, according to its intrinsic worth, and 
you will find that it deserves frequent perusal 
and careful study. Yet I fear that many per- 
sons have almost no acquaintance with it, ex- 
cept that which comes from the dim recollec- 
tions of childhood. Its very sanctity repels 
them. But if they do not read it as the rev- 
elations of God and as a religious duty, it 
should be read for its own sake. 

The book of Proverbs contains enough prac- 
tical wisdom to carry any man successfully 
through the world. Seneca and Franklin can- 
not be read with one half the profit, even with 
egard to the conduct of this life alone. The 
young man who reads a chapter of it every 
day, will find that folly and sin become an up- 
hi'i bi'siness. The book of Job is a key to the 



LEISURE TIME. 83 

mysteries of Providence, as we see them all 
around us. The Prophecies, although ob- 
scure and difficult, fill the mind with pictures 
of heavenly glory and reveal to us the judg- 
ments of God. 

But above all, the New Testament, to those 
who know how to prize simplicity of style and 
grandeur of thought, is an inexhaustible fund 
of instruction and delight. The character of 
Jesus Christ, if we could regard it simply as a 
historical fact, apart from its religious bear- 
ing, is worthy of never-ending study. It is 
the only perfect character ever delineated. If 
it were a fiction it would be wonderful ; being 
true, it is miraculous. His words come to us, 
as a breathing from heaven. His life opens 
to us an acquaintance with heavenly exist- 
ence. 

Yet I believe, that, with the exception of 
those who have been led by religioLis experi- 
ence to place their hopes of eternal life in the 
Gospel, there is no book which is estimated 
so far below its real and intrinsic merits as the 
Bible. I commend it to your reading, if not 



84 LEISURE TIME. 

as a religious duty, as a means of self-educa- 
tion, for the refinement of your taste and for 
the general elevation of your character. 

But consider it as a religious duty, and it 
still belongs to the work of self-education. 
He who hopes to attain the full development 
of his mind or true manliness of character, 
without religious principle, is under a mistake. 
Knowledge is very important; but one sin 
will degrade you more than a great deal of 
ignorance. Sobriety, chastity, purity, and 
truth are elements of growth to the mind, not 
less than to the heart. They ennoble a man 
in this world, while they prepare him for the 
future ; and these are the virtues which relig- 
ion inculcates. It exalts us above all corrupt- 
ing and impure associations, and therefore, if 
considered only as a means of self-improve- 
ment in the present time, it should never be 
neglected. The irreligious man is in danger 
of becoming a low-minded and selfish man, 
even if he avoids being wicked. 

But I would not rest the cause of religion 
here. Not for a moment would I leave it 



LEISURE TIME. 85 

upon so low a ground. It appeals to us and 
belongs to us, as immortal beings. It com- 
mands us to make the most of ourselves here, 
in mind, in heart, and in life^ because we must 
soon pass from Time to Eternity, carrying 
with us the result of our conduct here. In 
such a view, how completely worthless do all 
earthly considerations seem ? What matter 
whether we are rich or poor, learned or igno- 
rant, so that we are rich in good works and 
wise unto salvation ? 

But a part of our duty towards God is to 
improve the talents committed to us, for the 
promotion of his glory and for usefulness 
among men. Infuse, therefore, into all your 
efforts for self-improvement a religious spirit. 
This will bestow dignity upon the employ- 
ment, it will give steadfastness to your pur- 
pose and crown your efforts with success. 



LECTURE IV. 



TRANSGRESSION. 

" Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not iii tti"^ \^\Q irf evil 
men. Avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass iun " — Prov. 
iv 14,15. 

Not long ago, perhaps a year or more, I 
was accosted in the street by a man, whom at 
first I did not fully recognize. His voice, how- 
ever, recalled him to my mind. I had hot 
seen him for nearly two years, although we 
had both been living in the same city during 
all that time, and we had formerly been upon 
terms of intimate friendship. His hand was 
cold and tremulous ; he was not intoxicated, 
but his step was unsteady, like that of an old 
man, and his form slightly bowed, as if under 
the weight of threescore years. His features 
were bloated, his eye dull and unsettled. He 
seemed unable to look steadily upon any ob- 



TRANSGRESSION. 87 

ject, and the expression of his face was like 
that of one suffering under some heavy care or 
some great disappointment that he was de- 
sirous to conceal. There was an effort to as- 
sume a hearty and cordial manner, and the 
grasp of the hand and the first words of greet- 
ing seemed like his manner of ten years be- 
fore. But it was an effort that could not long 
be sustained. Assumed indifference and the 
evident sense of real mortification soon took 
its place. His dress was shabby and careless- 
ly worn, showing that the world had not dealt 
kindly with him. He seemed glad to see me, 
shook my hand again and again, as if he had 
forgotten each time that he had done it be- 
fore ; promised to come to my house, which, 
however, he evidently did not intend to do ; 
asked me to visit him, but although I prom- 
ised it, he evidently supposed it would never 
be done, and seemed greatly relieved when the 
interview was ended. And so was I. But it 
left matter upon my mind which occupied me 
many hours after. His form kept coming 
back to me, an unbidden presence, reproach- 



88 TRANSGRESSION. 

ing me that I had not done more to save him 
from that sad condition. A few days after- 
ward I went to see him at his room, and tried 
to renew our old acquaintance. I spoke to 
him earnestly and plainly, as I had often done 
before, and he promised, with tears in his eyes, 
that he would reform. Only a week after- 
ward I again met him in the street, so intoxi- 
cated that he did not know me. And when 
two or three months had passed, I was called 
one day to see him on his dying bed, and then 
to follow him to an unhonored grave. 

Was this the end to which he looked for- 
ward, when he first came to this city ? Was 
this the natural and right conclusion of a youth 
full of promise, of a manhood which began 
with bright hopes and sanguine expectations ? 
If, on the day when he left his father's house, 
" a younger son to go into a far country," the 
dream of such a future had visited him, — the 
vision of a premature old age, of years spent 
friendless and despised, of the death-bed in 
an alms-h3use and the burial at public charge, 
— if such a vision had come to him when he 



TRANSGRESSION. 89 

received his mother's blessing, or to ner when 
she gave it, it would have been better for them 
both to be stricken down by the hand of death, 
than to look upon it. Yet the reality came, 
and that which would have been too fearfu] to 
think of became the history of his life. 

And how did it come ? By what avenues 
did the tempter find entrance into a heart rich 
in good affections, into a mind well stored 
with good and pious thoughts ? I remember 
him now as he was, sixteen years ago, when 
he first came to this city. Among all whom 
I knew, I could not, perhaps, have selected one 
whose life seemed to give a more certain prom- 
ise of an honorable and useful career. The 
glow of health was upon his cheek, his eye 
sparkled with the vigor of intelligence, his step 
was firm, his whole manner was that of one 
who had resolved to do a man's work man- 
fully. He was then but little more than twen- 
ty years of age, fresh from all the good influ- 
ences of a Christian home in a quiet Christian 
community, unstained by the world's corrup- 
tions, ignorant of life's temptations. But his 



90 TRANSGRESSION. 

resolutions were so strong and his opportuni- 
ties so good, that there seemed as little danger 
for him as for any one. How terrible the 
change that fifteen years produced. 

If I could trace that progress, step by step, 
— if I could show how it was that his virtu- 
ous resolutions began to yield, and the stain 
of corruption to spread upon his sonl, it would 
be an instructive, although a sad narration. 
But the heart knoweth its own bitterness. 
We cannot enter into the hidden experience 
one of another. We cannot tell how the 
temptation comes, even to ourselves, and wo 
often fail to recognize its presence until we 
have yielded to its power. The influences of 
evil are working in the heart, long before they 
come to outward observation. When we be- 
gin to see them, the ruin is too often already 
accomplished. 

With regard to him of whom I have now 
spoken, I did not know when his steps began 
upon the downward road. He seemed to be 
prospering in business, for the first two or 
three years was found only in good company. 



TRANSGRESSION 91 

and was evidently taking his place among 
men as a good and useful citizen. I have 
since thought, that perhaps his progress was 
so much more rapid than he had anticipated, 
and the position he held so much higher, that 
he was deceived into a false security. Per- 
haps he thought himself already removed from 
danger, and that he might safely yield to 
temptation, a little way, without fear of fall- 
ing. Soon after, some reverses in business 
occurred which slightly embarrassed him, and 
some disappointments in social life which 
soured his disposition. The habit of occa- 
sional conviviality, formed in the time of pros- 
perity, now brought a feeling of relief and 
daily became stronger. His place at church 
was more frequently left vacant, and his place 
at the bar-room more frequently filled. He, 
was not himself aware of any danger, until, 
his business suffering more and more, he be- 
gan to perceive that friends were falling away 
from him. Partly by the sense of shame, and 
partly by the feeling that he was unjustly dealt 
with, he was led to acquaintance with those 



92 TRANSGRESSION. 

who were, in character and social position, far 
beneath him. Their influence upon him \v;is 
in every way bad. Some of them were those 
determined drinkers, those veterans in tht 
ranks of intemperance, who are scarcely ever 
intoxicated, yet never sober, and who care very 
little how many others fall over the precipice, 
while they themselves remain in comparative 
safety. Under their influence his decline was 
rapid, and soon ended in vain tears of repent- 
ance, in sadness and despair. 

It is a common story ; a thing of every 
day's occurrence. Since I began to speak, if 
you have asked yourselves whose history it is, 
if you have tried to remember some one to 
whom it would apply, you have probably 
thought of many whose career, although not 
identically the same, has been equally sad. 

Perhaps none of those whom I address 
know any thing of the person to whom I have 
referred ; for the record of his name and of his 
burial-place has already passed from mem- 
ory. But similar instances you have all 
known, or may see every day going on to- 



I- TRANSGRESSION. 93 

wards the fatal, the inevitable conclusion. In 
conversation with a friend a few days since, 
who is himself still a young man, he informed 
me that more than half of the companions 
with whom he began his active life, ten or 
twelve years since, have already come to a 
disgraceful death or to a dishonored and 
worthless life. Is it not dreadful to think of 
such things ? Is it not enough to frighten a 
young man from his self-confident security, to 
see how many of those who have gone before 
him, in the very same path, have fallen never 
to rise again? Has he a safe-conduct from 
some higher power, by virtue of which he may 
go to the brink of ruin and return uninjured ? 
Is it the mark of wisdom to risk every thing 
that makes life dear, health and friends, honor 
and usefulness, virtue and religion, self-respect 
and the favor of God, for the sake of those 
vulgar but enticing pleasures by which the 
young are so often betrayed ? There is a 
warfare in which discretion is the better part 
of valor. Even if we gain the victory, we 
return without honor and without praise. 



94 TRANSGRESSION. 

" Therefore enter not into the path of the 
wicked, and go not in the way of evil men ; 
avoid it, pass not by it, turn from it, and pass 
away." 

The paths which lead to ruin, although they 
gradually converge and become the broad and 
fatal " way that leadeth to destruction," are at 
first very various. The first departures from 
virtue are very slight, the first habits of sin 
seem to be in themselves scarcely sinful. 
There is some pleasant name by which they 
are called, some plausible excuse by which 
they are allowed. But by a little pains, we 
can mark the principal stages by which the 
downward progress is generally made. 

First of all is the intoxicating cup. With 
ninety-nine in a hundred, that is the beginning 
whose end is death. Those who begin with 
the strict rule of temperance, and adhere to it, 
seldom throw themselves away in sinful pur- 
suits. Generally speaking, if the young man 
can secure himself in this bulwark of safety, 
all the enemies of his soul will be successfully 
resisted. His passions will remain under his 



TRANSGRESSION. 95 

own control, unless they are heated by wine, 
and his eye clear to see the things which are 
for his own good, unless clouded by the fumes 
of strong drink. But when he has put an 
enemy within his mouth to steal away his 
brains, influences which a child should be 
strong enough to resist become too strong for 
him, and he yields both body and soul to their 
power. He may think that it is very little he 
has taken, but a very little is enough to ob- 
scure the judgment of a young head and to 
pervert the desires of youthful blood. He may 
imagine that he was never more perfectly him- 
self, his thoughts may seem to him more than 
usually clear, his step may have strength and 
buoyancy, there is just enough pleasant ex- 
citement to make his heart glad; but in all 
this he is prepared to say and do things from 
which perfect sobriety would shrink, and of 
which the soberness of to-morrow's thought 
will be ashamed. 

Young men ! I would warn you from that 
sparkling cup, — not only because it is a first 
step, which may lead you, as it has led, this 



96 TRANSGRESSION. 

very year now drawing to a close, fifty thou- 
sand in our own country, to a drunkard's 
grave, — but I warn you from it, because even 
from the very first it opens all the avenues of 
your heart to the temptations under which sin 
is committed. There is scarcely a sin against 
which you need a warning, so long as the 
blood Hows equally in healthy channels ; but 
when it is quickened by the liquid fire, the 
power of temptation is increased, while the 
strength to resist it is lessened. Sin puts on 
allurements which do not belong to it, and by 
which its deformity is concealed. The quiet 
pleasures of a virtuous life appear tame in 
comparison, and the disordered imagination 
fills the chambers of guilt with illusions of 
beauty, which the experience of guilt will soon 
destroy. 

If it were, therefore, certain that you could 
indulge yourselves with safety, so far as the 
danger of intemperance is concerned, you 
would be exposing yourselves to other dangers 
equally as great. I appeal to you if this is 
not true. I ask you if you have not already 



TRANSGRESSION. 97 

gone far enough to know its truth ? I^et it be 
granted that it is impossible for you ever to 
become a drunkard ; have you not already ex- 
perienced that by the daily or occasional use 
of intoxicating drink you expose yourselves 
to many bad influences, from which you 
would otherwise escape, and commit many 
sins both in word and deed, which you would 
otherwise avoid ? From what cause come 
wasted time and low companionship ? What 
is it that betrays you into extravagance and 
foolish debt? By what means did you fall so 
easily into Sabbath-breaking and profanity ? 
How did you learn to speak so lightly of re- 
ligion and to laugh at the scruples of virtue ? 
What influence has brought the sacredness of 
female innocence into contempt? and how has 
it come to pass that, instead of the nobler 
ambition of your early days, you are now so 
eager for pleasure, so greedy for excitement? 
Can you tell me ? Have you thought of this ? 
You feel very sure that you will never be a 
drunkard ; but are you equally sure that the 
foundation of your virtue is not already sapped, 
7 



98 TRANSGRESSION. 

that the springs of your moral and relig- 
ious life are not already corrupted? Make 
the trial. Begin this day and continue for 
twelve months the plan of strict, absolute tem- 
perance, and you will be astonished to find 
how greatly ihe change of that one habit wil 
change the tenor of your whole lives. You 
will have more time to yourselves ; you will 
feel a greater desire of improvement ; the de- 
formity of vice will appear more plainly, and 
the excellence of virtue ; your nobler ambition 
to be a useful and honored man will return ; 
and before many months have passed, you will 
be astonished to see how far upon the road to 
ruin you had gone, and how difficult it is, even 
now, to retrace your steps. If you doubt my 
words, make a trial of them for your own sake. 
It can certainly do you no harm, and if at the 
end of twelve months you find that you are 
neither better nor wiser for the experiment, it 
will be easy to abandon it. But you will not 
find it so. Make the experiment for twelve 
months, and if you are capable of learning 
from experience, you will hold to it till the end 
of life. 



TRANSGRESSION. 99 

This view of the subject is very important 
and needs to be carefully considered. Young 
men are every day ruined from the want of 
perceiving it. They convince themselves, as 
there is no difficulty in doing, that there is no 
danger of their ever becoming drunkards ; and 
having done this, they excuse themselves in 
the habit of daily drinking, as if no other harm 
could come from it. A great and fatal mis- 
take. From the very beginning it does harm. 
If it is only an occasional glass, if it is only 
the glow upon the cheek and the quickened 
pulse, produced by indulgence in wine at the 
supper-table of a friend, it is a wrong done, an 
injury inflicted. The perceptions of virtue are 
made dull, the rebukes of a tender conscience 
are silenced by such a habit from the very 
first. When the hour of perfect sobriety 
comes, the young man blushes to remember 
the words spoken and the acts of freedom of 
which he was guilty the night before. Con- 
sider this, I beg of you, and as you prize an 
unsullied conscience, let not the cup of intoxi- 
cation come near your lips. 



100 TRANSGRESSION. 

But how do you know that you are so safe? 
How do you know that you can walk in the 
path which leads to intemperance and yet 
never reach its end? Who gave you that 
safe-conduct, by power of which you may go 
to the brink of ruin, and looking over gaze into 
that fiery gulf and then return uninjured ? Un- 
injured^ you cannot return. That is impossi- 
ble. But how do you know that you will re- 
turn at all ? Is it because you are so strong, 
— because you are always able to do what 
you say you will do ? Men equally strong 
have fallen and are falling into that ruin every 
day. Is it because your motives to good con- 
duct are so urgent on the one side, and be- 
cause, on the other, you care so little for the 
intoxicating draught that you are sure you can 
give it up at any moment you please ? It is 
only the delusion of Satan. Trust not to it. 
Your relish for that hateful cup is becoming 
stronger, although you may not know it. It 
may soon become so strong as to be a craving 
of your nature. It will be not only a sinful 
habit, but a physical disease. Your resolu- 



TRANSGRESSION. 101 

tions become daily more weak and the strong 
will gradually loses its power. The motives 
for good conduct may continue or may grow 
stronger as the danger increases ; but what are 
motives, to him whose feverish blood cravea 
the drink which has already set him on fire ? 
What to him are family and friends, or wife 
and children, or his own good name and self- 
respect, or health and life itself? What to 
him is the hope of heaven or the fear of hell ? 
The drink which he craves he must have, and 
although he hates it, " he will seek it again." 

Look at that man whose dress betokens that 
he is, or has been, a gentleman, and whose 
manners show that he is not yet quite brutal- 
ized. He staggers in the street, and because 
you have known him in his better days, you 
take his arm, and, half supporting him, go with 
him towards his home. You hear his maudlin 
talk and look into his lack-lustre eye, and won- 
der if that can be the same man whom you 
knew a few years ago in the pride of man- 
hood, successful in business, beloved by his 
friends, honored by society. What motive 



102 TRANSGRESSION. 

was wanting to keep him in the right path ? 
By what compulsion was he driven to a con- 
dition like this? You go on with him, for it 
is not far, until you are near his house ; the 
effects of inebriation become stronger ; he stag- 
gers so heavily that you can scarcely support 
him, and when he has come to his own door, 
it is with difficulty he stands. The door is 
opened, and what is it you then see ? Do you 
talk of motives now ? It is his wife and chil- 
dren who come forward to receive him. They 
know the whole truth ; for it has been so 
many times before. His wife is still young 
and beautiful, but you see that her beauty, 
which you remember as it was a few years 
ago, is fading away under the influence of a 
wife's mortification and a mother's care. His 
daughter, already growing into womanhood, 
looks with half wonder and half disgust, and 
does what she is bidden to do to help her fa- 
ther. The younger children gather round, but 
quickly see that no caress is waiting for them 
there. And this is the drunkard's home. Do 
you talk of motives now ? Do you not see 



TRANSGRESSION. 103 

that the habit of intemperance is like the robe 
with which Hercules was betrayed to clothe 
himself, and which he could not tear off, be- 
cause it clung to him, a burning and a raging 
fire, until he was dead ? It is but an allegory 
of drunkenness, and the strong man who sub- 
dues the Nemean lion is himself subdued, the 
victim of Intemperance. 

But let your contempt be mingled with pity 
for him whom you left but now, in his miser- 
able home. The day has been when, in the 
very agony of spirit, he knelt down and prayed 
to God, with vows that seemed registered in 
heaven, and with tears streaming from his 
eyes, while he promised that he would never 
again yield to temptation. You would have 
had hope for him then ; but it lasted a few 
weeks, and the promises were broken. Merci- 
ful God I who knowest the weakness of our 
nature and the deceitfulness of our hearts, keep 
us away from temptation ; save us from the 
trials which may be too strong for our virtue! 
Leave us not to our own devices, but save us 
with a strong hand, and guide us by thy Spirit 



104 TRANSGRESSION. 

in the way of everlasting life ! And thou, 
young man, trifle not with your own soul. 
Pray that you may not be led into tempta- 
tion. " Look not thou upon the wine when 
it is red, when it giveth its color in the cup, 
when it moveth itself aright. At the last it 
biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an ad- 
der." 

But among those who hear me, are there 
not some whose minds suggest an answer to 
the appeal now made, and who therefore can- 
not feel its force ? It is very well, they may 
say, and it is right for you as a minister of the 
Gospel to speak in this manner and advise us 
to keep out of temptation. We acknowledge 
the danger, and do not claim to be stronger 
than others who have fallen. You say that it 
is disgraceful for a young man to be a daily 
visitor at the bar-room, and we have often felt 
it to be so. But when we first went there, it 
was not of our own seeking. It was in per- 
formance of our duty. Our employers required 
it of us, or we knew that they expected it, and 
there was no way of avoiding it. Even now, 



TRANSGRESSION. 105 

it is a pert of our regular employment to visit 
such places in search of customers, or to carry 
them there for the sake of keeping them in 
good humor and securing their patronage. If, 
therefore, the habit grows upon us, and we 
learn to continue it for our own sake, we do 
not well see how to avoid it. We must either 
run the risk or lose our places. 

What shall we say to this ? I wish that it 
could be denied, as a slander against the good 
name of this community, but it contains too 
much truth. I have known it to be true in 
many instances. There are some houses, so 
I am credibly informed, that have a contingent 
fund to defray the expenses incurred by their 
young men in this miserable pursuit of busi- 
ness. In others, the same thing is done in a 
less systematic way, but quite as effectually, 
and there are comparatively few in which it is 
absolutely forbidden. The young man is ac- 
counted valuable, and receives promotion, in 
proportion to his success in bringing custom- 
ers and in selling to them large bills ; although 
it is perfectly weU known by what arts of per- 



106 TRANSGRESSION. 

suasioQ it is accomplished. A merchant said 
to me a few days since, " If it goes on in this 
way, every house will need, not only a buying 
partner, and a selling partner, and a counting- 
room partner, but a drinking partner, to make 
it successful." If that were all, I would not 
complain so much. If men would do this 
work for themselves, it would only be another 
instance of a man's endangering his soul for 
money ; but to send the young and inexperi- 
enced upon this bad errand, is a wrong beyond 
endurance. There can be no sufficient excuse 
for it. If the continuance of trade requires it, 
then is trade an accursed thing, in which no 
honorable man should engage. The competi- 
tion which leads to it is unmanly, and the 
prosperity gained by it is disgrace. But we 
do not believe it. We confidently deny the 
necessity of resorting to such means, under 
any circumstances. Every respectable mer- 
chant should positively prohibit their use ; and 
every respectable young man should positively 
refuse to be made the instrument of pandering 
to the vices of others, at the risk of his own 



TRANSGRESSION. 107 

virtue. Some temporary loss may be incurred, 
by adhering to such principles ; but any loss 
is better than that of self-respect. Pardon me 
if I speak. too plainly, and " he that hath ears 
to hear, let him hear." 

Another way to ruin is found in the viola- 
tion of the hordes day. I spoke, last week, of 
the wasted Sunday as a hinderance to self- 
improvement. I speak of it now as a sin, the 
consequences of which are ruinous to the soul. 

I am not what is commonly called a strict 
Sabbatarian. My ideas concerning the Lord's 
day are neither Jewish nor Puritan. " The 
Sabbath was made for man, not man for the 
Sabbath." Its superstitious observance either 
by the individual or by a community is not to 
be desired. Yet I have no doubt that the day 
was intended to be held sacred from the com- 
mon uses of the week. If we are disposed to 
doubt this^ experience and observation will 
prove it. If you devote it to your ordinary 
occupations, as a working day, or to the pur- 
suit of pleasure, as a holiday, it will become 
to you a frequent occasion of sin, and both 



108 TRANSGRESSION. 

your mind and your character will suffer. 
This is partly because we need the refresh- 
ment of occasional rest from our ordinary 
pursuits, and one day in seven is not too 
much. It is needed equally by the mind and 
the body. Our affections need it to prevent 
their becoming dull or morbid; the judgment 
is more healthy and the thoughts more clear 
by a respite from labor. The eagerness of 
social ambition is restrained, and the compar- 
ative value of the different objects of pursuit 
more justly discerned. 

This is the ordinary influence of the Lord's 
day, considered as a day of rest from our 
common labors, and without reo^ard to its relief- 
ious uses. Nor is there a community on the 
face of the earth which needs its restorative 
influence more than our own. I have some- 
times thought, that if it were not for the Sab- 
bath day, upon which we stop working, from 
motives of respectability if from no other, one 
half of us would go crazy, through the rest- 
less eagerness of our industry. In the breath- 
ing time which Sunday gives, we recover the 



IBANSGRESSION. 109 

exhausted strength, and return to our work 
with a spirit somewhat chastened and more 
free from unhealthy excitement. As business 
men, therefore, we lose nothing, but gain a 
great deal, by turning away from ordinary 
pursuits and resting from them one day in 
seven. There is no command of God's re- 
vealed word, which receives a more perfect 
confirmation from our own experience than 
this : " Remember the Sabbath day to keep 
it holy." 

If you wiJl consider it as giving time and 
opportunity for religious improvement, its im- 
portance still more fully appears. It is the 
time for meditation, for serious reading and 
for prayer. I do not mean that every hour of 
it must be so used, but that this use of the 
day should be prominent in our thoughts. 
None of us can safely dispense with it. Our 
religious progress will be slow, and our es- 
trangement from God will become greater 
every day, unless some portion of the Sunday 
is regularly given to its religious uses. The 
young person who neglects these has no rea- 



no TRANSGRESSION. 

son to be surprised to find himself becoming 
more and more irreligious. If he sets any 
value upon religion, if he does not wish to 
free himself altogether from the restraints 
which religion imposes, if he does not wish 
to make complete shipwreck of his religious 
hopes, then let him give a part of the Lord's 
day to the house of prayer, a part of it to 
his Bible, and a part to serious reflection. 
This is not asking too much ; it may seem 
too much to those who have no higher object 
in life than to eat, drink, and be merry ; but 
not to those who have any nobleness of char- 
acter left, nor to those who believe that our 
chief duty here is to prepare ourselves for 
the future. 

The profanation of the Lord's day to the 
purposes of amusement, seems almost to 
bring a special judgment upon those who are 
guilty of it. I do not mean by any outward 
punishment, but by the injury done to them- 
selves, in their own moral and religious life. 
It generally precedes, if it does not mark, the 
decline of virtue and the growth of immoral- 



TRANSGRESSION. Ill 

ity. We may well be surprised at the extent 
to which this is true, until we look at the in- 
fluences to which such a use of the day gen- 
erally exposes us. It brings us into low asso- 
ciations. Sunday amusements are generally 
of a vulgar kind, and must be enjoyed, if at 
all, in vulgar companionship. Those who 
are seeking for a better respectability will not 
join in them. They are kept away by regard 
to their reputation, if not by higher principles 
If we seek them, therefore, our associates 
must be those who are more likely to relish 
vice than virtue, and whose influence upon us 
will be of the worst kind. The influences of 
the day, instead of being the best, become the 
most pernicious of the whole week ; instead 
of being consecrated to God, it is made the 
occasion of sin. We have no reason, there- 
fore, to wonder at the evil result. By famil- 
iarity with vulgar scenes, by friendship with 
vulgar associates, by separating ourselves 
from refined and religious society, we may 
go downward just as rapidly as we please. 
Thus it is, that what is called Sabbath- 



112 TRANSGRESSION. 

breaking becomes so great a sin. Thus it often 
becomes the introduction to every vice, and to 
many young persons is the first step towards 
their ruin. It places them in a position where 
all the " fiery darts of the wricked " reach 
them. You may call the observance of the 
Lord's day a ritual observance, if you please, 
but it is inseparable from religion itself. It is 
inseparable from morality. If you neglect it, 
if you become a confirmed Sabbath-breaker, 
turning your feet away from the house of 
God, and devoting its hours to pleasure-seek- 
ing, your pleasures will soon become dissipa- 
tion ; even your respectability will be on the 
wane ; your ideas of right and wrong will be 
more and more unsettled, and your soul itself 
is lost. I commend it, therefore, young men, 
to your serious consideration. Do not set it 
aside as a mere usage, which in itself is 
neither right nor wrong. Use it well, and it 
will become to you indeed the Lord's day, 
diffusing through the whole week a sanctifying 
influence, making your whole lives an accept- 
able service to Him. If you waste it or pro- 



TRANSGEESSION. 113 

fane it, no one can measure the extent of the 
evil which may follow. Upon the Sabbath, 
therefore, even above all other days, remember 
" not to enter into the path of the wicked, not 
to go in the way of evil men. Avoid it, pass 
not by it, tm'n from it, and pass away." 

Among the evil habits by which many 
young men are ruined, v/e must mention the 
sin of gambling. It is a subject upon which 
1 have had almost no opportunity of observa- 
tion. I must speak of it, therefore, with diffi- 
dence, because, so far as facts are concerned, 
my knowledge goes but little way. But I am 
told by others, that the evil to which we now 
refer exists among us to a great extent. I am 
told that it is a common habit among young 
men, both upon a small and a large scale. Oc- 
casionally I hear of those who lose more money 
in this way than they can afford; and at longer 
intervals, some marked instance comes before 
us, with a notoriety which ends in infamy, 
of those who have been betrayed by the gam- 
ing-table into dishonesty towards their em- 
ployers and into their own ruin. We also heai 



114 TRANSGRESSION. 

sometimes, but are almost unable to believe 
it, that among the most respectable and influ- 
ential men, gambling is a usage, and that 
those who, by their position in society, ought 
to set an example of the strictest morality, are 
exerting hereby a fatal influence. For such 
things, although they maybe done in a corner, 
are sure to go abroad. They become a part 
of our moral atmosphere. It is breathed by 
the young man, whose principles are yet but 
imperfectly formed, and taints his moral 
nature. The necessity of virtue seems less 
urgent, the hideousness of vice becomes less 
hateful. The responsibility which rests upon 
those who stand at the head of society, by 
whatever cause they are placed there, cannot 
be exaggerated. They would do well to con- 
sider it more maturely. If not for their own 
sake, then for the sake of those who look to 
them as an example, and in whose eyes they 
are making wickedness respectable, they 
should discountenance this, as well as every 
otner form of social iniquity. 

But our business at present is with the 



I 



TRANSGRESSION. 115 



young themsilves ; with those whose visits to 
the gambling-table have as yet been few, and 
who have not yet experienced its worst influ- 
ence. If the habit is already confirmed, they 
are probably beyond the reach of our influ- 
ence ; for of all sinful habits, there is none 
whose enticements are so alluring to those 
who have taken the first step, none which 
binds around its votary cords more difficult 
to be broken. We address ourselves also to 
those by whom the first step has not yet been 
taken. Upon them, chiefly, an influence may 
be exerted. With all the earnestness we are 
capable of using, we implore them to keep 
away from the gaming-table. As they love 
their souls, as they value their peace of mind, 
yes, as they prize their common respectability 
in the world, let them keep away. 

The evils of gambling are so many, that I 
scarcely know how to enumerate them. First, 
and unavoidably, it leads the young man into 
the worst of company. The game of chance 
is a complete leveller. For a time there may 
be a vain effort of exclusiveness, but it will 



116 TRANSGRESSION. 

not continue long. Very soon he is upon 
terms of intimacy with those whom he de- 
spises, and who despise or hate him in return. 
Again, from the very first, an unhealthy ex- 
citement is produced, not so much an excite- 
ment as a fever of the mind. It often grows 
to a delirium, under which all self-control is 
lost, an intoxication worse than that of drunk- 
enness itself. It is at such times that one is 
betrayed into dishonesty, when he stakes upon 
the turn of a card money which he must dis- 
honestly steal, before he can honorably pay 
He scarcely knows what he is doing; when 
it is done, he is as nmch astonished as we are 
to hear of it ; but it is then too late. A step 
taken upon that road is followed by another 
and another, until discovery and ruin overtake 
him. 

To the beginner at the gaming-table, the 
intoxicating cup is always made an adjunct 
of the evil, and thus one temptation is in- 
creased by the other. The confirmed gam- 
bler, indeed, is shrewd enough to keep himself 
sober. If he drinks freely, it is because he 



TRANSGRESSION. 117 

has inured himself by long habit, so that he 
does not feel its influence ; but generally, he 
takes only enough to lead others beyond their 
depth. A confirmed gambler, therefore, is 
seldom a drunkard. But with the tyro it is 
quite different. He lacks nerve for his new 
employment. He feels a little ashamed of him- 
self ; he is acting a part which he is not used 
to ; he feels timid and hesitates ; and for all 
such feelings, wine is a panacea ; or, by some 
beverage more ingeniously contrived, he is 
soon brought to a degree of self-confidence 
which makes him feel quite at home. How 
great does the peril now become ! He goes 
downv/ard at an increasing pace. Late in 
the evening, he returns home w^ith a feverish 
brain, but with a heart already heavy as lead, 
and on the morrow curses the day on which 
he was born. 

Again, the habit of gambling, w^hether on a 
large or small scale, develops the worst feel- 
ings of a man's nature. It makes him cold 
and selfish and distrustful. He learns to hate 
those whom he calls his friends, for their gain 



118 TRANSGRESSION. 

is continually his own loss. He regards them 
with suspicion, accuses them of unfairness, 
thinks that they are overreaching him and 
endeavors to overreach them in return. Un- 
der such a discipline all frankness of char- 
acter gives way ; all scrupulousness of con- 
science disappears ; mean and tricky subter- 
fuges are resorted to, and each one becomes 
guilty of that of which he suspects the other. 
A great deal is said about debts of honor, but 
the principal debt is that incurred in one's own 
soul by the loss of honor itself. 

[" The purchase of lottery tickets is one of 
the worst species of gambling which any man 
or woman ever engaged in. It has all the 
temptations and excitements, and offers more 
inducements, than the Faro-bank or the Rou- 
lette-table. There are but few persons who 
have engaged in the purchase of lottery tick- 
ets that have not continued to pursue it, and 
with many it becomes a passion as fearful as 
any in the catalogue. It is tempting, becajase 
it requires but a small sum to commence, and 
the drawing of one or two numbers is sulli- 



TRANSGRESSION. 119 

cient to lure the victim on. The excitement 
is great, from the amount of gain in prospect, 
and the duration of the suspense. At the 
gambling-table, the money is down, the stake 
must bear some proportion to the amount to 
be won, and a few turns of the cards, or 
throws of the dice, decide it. But not so in 
this lottery business. A dollar, or a few dol- 
lars, invested in lottery tickets, will, if success- 
ful, enrich the holder with as many or more 
thousands. From the moment of the pur- 
chase until the announcement of the result of 
the drawing, he lives in a state of painful and 
improper excitement. At one moment, golden 
visions dance before the distempered brain, 
and fancy pictures the possession of thou- 
sands ; the next, all is lost, and the holder is 
the victim of every species of ill-fate and mis- 
fortune. 

" There are two classes of the community 
who are peculiarly susceptible to the influence 
of this evil excitement, and upon whom the 
reports of special good fortune, on the part of 
a few, are calculated to have a most pernicious 



120 TRANSGRESSIOrv 

influence. They are the young, and females. 
They are both desirous of the enjoyment of 
wealth, independence, and fortunes. They 
are susceptible of the influence which such re- 
ports carry with them. They can see no rea- 
son why they may not be as lucky as anybody 
else, and, once in the vortex, they are ruined. 
A failure, or partial success, but induces 
further trials ; and thus they go on, step by 
step, until their money is exhausted, their 
honor and every thing sacrificed to a depraved 
and unreasonable passion."*] 

In what I am now saying, I again acknowl- 
edge that I speak from theory more than ob- 
servation. In these departments of life, my 
opportunities of observing are very small. 
But the little I have seen, interpreted under 
the general principles of human nature, justi- 
fies all that has been said. If so, my appeal 
cannot be too earnestly made. Keep away 

* The above extract is taken from the leading editorial of 
the St. Louis Republican, Nov. 20, and is here introduced, al- 
though not in the Lecture delivered, as indispensable to tlie 
subject discussed. 



T RAN SG HE £ S 1 N . 1 2 ! 

from the gambling-table. Nay, keep awny 
from the places where it is spread. Do not 
by your presence there give countenance to 
that great iniquity. Do not, for the sake of 
a transient pleasure, suffer your name to be 
enrolled among those who are guilty of this 
sin. Even if you refrain from it yourself, you 
are giving your patronage to those who live 
by it, and you are thereby committing a grave 
and serious oifence against society. Do not 
answer, that you must have some amusement. 
It is not so needful, that you must commit 
sin or endanger your virtue in its pursuit. 
Let your hearts be set upon something better 
than amusement, upon self-improvement and 
a useful life, and you will find ways of recrea- 
tion without entering " upon the path of the 
wicked, or going in the way of evil men." 

My time is already rriore than exhausted, 
and with it my own strength, and I fear your 
patience. Yet there is one other topic upon 
which I must speak, before closing. It is a 
subject the most difficult of all, requiring at 
the same time plainness and delicacy in its 



122 TRANSGRESSION. 

treatment. I must trust to your own thoughts 
to supply my deficiency ; and to your own 
love of virtue, that a right direction io your 
thoughts may be given 

" So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, 
That, when a soul is found sincerely so, 
A thousand liveried angels lackey her, 
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt ; 

But when lust, 
By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, 
But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, 
Lets in defilement to the inward parts, 
The soul grows clotted by contagion, 
Embodies and imbrutes, till she quite lose 
The divine property of her first being." 

When speaking upon the same subject, 
Solomon asks, " Can a man take fire in his 
bosom, and his clothes not be burnt ? Can one 
go upon hot coals, and his feet not be burnt?" 
Again the Apostle Paul says, " Know ye not 
that your bodies are the members of Christ? 
Shall I then take the members of Christ, and 
make them the members of a harlot ? God 
forbid ! What, know ye not that your body 
is the temple of the Holy Spirit which is in 



TRANSGRESSION. 123 

you, which ye have of God, and ye are not 
your own ? If any man defile the temple of 
God, him shall God destroy ; for the temple 
of God is holy ; which temple ye are." In 
hearing such words, we feel that our bodies 
are sacred, and that we have no right to pro- 
fane them by the defilement of sin. We 
should avoid impurity of thought and of ac- 
tion, as we avoid contagion and death. No 
grave for the soul can be dug so deep, as that 
in which it is buried by licentiousness. 

Of all the influences in society, calculated 
to purify and elevate man's character, that of 
virtuous and well-educated women is perhaps 
the strongest. From the hallowed precincts 
of the domestic circle, it drives away all sinful 
pleasure ; in the intercourse of social life, it 
makes virtue attractive and sin hateful. It 
touches the soul to its gentler issues, and be- 
stows a grace upon whatever is noble in 
human life. An essential part of the educa- 
tion of a young man is in woman's society. 
He needs it as much as he needs the educa- 
tion of books, and its neglect is equally per- 



124 TRAiS'SGRESSION. 

nicious. Every one knows that it is a good 
trait in a young man, to be fond of ladies' 
society. I do not mean, to become what is 
technically called a ladies' man, which is very 
frequently another term for foppishness and 
effeminacy, and by which many make them- 
selves objects of just contempt; but I mean 
that he who can enjoy the refined pleasure 
which comes from female society is not 
likely to enjoy himself in the haunts of dis- 
sipation. 

But in proportion as she exerts a good and 
purifying influence when well educated and 
virtuous, her influence becomes pernicious if 
her character is perverted. When frivolous 
or heartless, she turns many from good ; when 
wicked, she is the most successful minister of 
ruin. The best things perverted, become the 
worst. Take from the air we breathe one of 
its component parts, and a single breath of it 
causes death. Take from woman's charac- 
ter her love and practice of virtue, and her 
presence becomes death to the soul. He who 
betrays her from her innocence is not less 



TRANSGRESSION. 125 

hateful in the eyes of God, than the serpent 
who brought sin into Paradise. He who is 
upon terms of friendship with her after she is 
betrayed, unless for the purpose of restoring 
her to virtue, is helping her to sink lower in 
her degradation, and himself goes down with 
her to the gates of hell. 

How does such an one dare to come from 
the scenes of iniquity to the society of the 
pure and good ? How does he dare to touch 
the hand of her whose face expresses the beau- 
ty of innocence ? As when Satan stood 
among the sons of God, we say to him, 
^^WJience comest thou,'- and what place have 
you here? His own sense of shame should 
keep him away ; or if he comes, he should be 
driven away with scorn. I know that it is in 
part woman's own fault, for very often when 
she knows full well whence he cometh, she 
welcomes him with smiles; but in doing so 
she is a traitor to her own sex, and stains her 
own purity. It is disgraceful to society that 
men, for whose description every English word 
is too vulgar, and over whose conduct a veil 



12G TRANSGRESSION. 

is thrown by calling them ''roues," should be 
admitted even in the highest circles upon 
equal terms, yes, and often upon better terms, 
with honest and honorable men. 

Young men ! I would speak to you upon 
this subject even more earnestly, if I dared. 
I commend it to your own thoughts. He who 
loses his respect for woman and his veneration 
for woman's virtue, is sinking very fast; he is 
travelling very rapidly towards ruin. I appeal 
to each one of you, therefore, by the love 
which you bear to your own mother, or by the 
sacredness of her memory, by the tender af- 
fection which you feel for your own sisters, 
and by the indignation which would fill your 
hearts, if any one were to approach them with 
an impure word or look, — I appeal to you by 
the respect which you cannot help feeling for 
the innocence and purity of womanhood, — to 
keep your own purity of character and to avoid 
this worst contamination of sin. 

Alas! how many are the dangers that threat- 
en you ! What watchfulness, what energy of 
purpose, do you need? The ground upon 



TRANSGRESSION. 127 

which you stand is enchanted. Perils and 
snares are around you. 

" Beware of all, guard every part, 
But most, the traitor in vour heart." 

" Wherewithal shall the young man cleanse 
his way? by taking heed thereto, according to 
Thy word. Enter not into the path of the 
wicked, and go not in the way of evil men. 
Avoid it; pass not by it: turn from it, and 
pass away." 



LECTURE V 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 



"And ■when he came to himself, he said, I will arise and go to my 
father, and will say unto him. Father, I haVe sinned against Heaven, 
and before thee. And he arose, and oame to his father." — Luke xr. 
17, 18, 20. 



From my choice of these words as a text, 
it might naturally be supposed that I intend 
to speak only of those who have wandered far 
from the right path, and whose danger is al- 
ready imminent. The young man in the par- 
able " went to a far country," by which is in- 
dicated the degree of his iniquity ; his living 
was quite wasted, and all his means of self- 
support quite gone, before he came to himself. 
Then, when his unworthiness w^as complete, 
and there was no other to whom he could 
turn, he said, " I will arise and go to my fa- 
ther" ; scarcely hoping indeed to be received. 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 129 

but having no other hope to save him from 
despair. 

How perfectly true to nature, when all oth- 
er friends deserted him, that he turns himself 
to the home of his childhood, seeking forgive- 
ness first from those whom he has most in- 
jured ! It is the father's house and the moth- 
er's love, to which we turn as a sure haven of 
rest, when the world treats us unkindly. It is 
there that we are most sure to find acceptance, 
however great our ill-desert. Although sinful 
and degraded, friendless and outcast, we are 
sure of a welcome there. Nor is there a pang 
which the world's worst treatment can inflict 
so severe as this thought, that in spite of all 
our errors, in spite of all our ingratitude, in 
spite of all our heartless disobedience, a wel- 
come is ready for us there, whenever we will 
return ; that a fond mother will find excuses 
for us through the greatness of her love, and 
hope for us through the greatness of her faith ; 
that the father, although he may seem more 
stern, is ready, whenever he sees us returning, 
to come out and meet the penitent, " to fall 
9 



130 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

upon his neck and kiss him." Such is a pa- 
rent's love ; so great is a parent's forbearance. 
If it had not been for his confidence in this, 
must there not have been times when the 
weight of his sins would have crushed the 
prodigal, when the degree of his unworthiness 
would have driven him to despair ? But the 
remembrance of that love which no ill-desert 
could estrange awakened hope for himself, and 
drew him back again to the paths of virtue. 

How precious, therefore, to our souls, should 
be that Gospel which reveals the Almighty 
God, whom we have offended, as the Father 
who is in Heaven ! What hopes are excited 
by that word, while at the same time the 
greatness of our sin is made more fully to ap- 
pear! For in proportion to the long-suffering 
of those whom we offend is our wickedness 
in offending them. But still that precious 
hope returns, and if He whom we have chiefly 
offended is most ready to forgive, we will yet 
arise and go to our Father, and say unto him, 
" Father, we have sinned against Heaven, and 
before thee." 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 131 

But need we wait until we have wandered 
so far ? May we not feel the truth of all I 
have said, even when our steps have gone but 
a little way from the Father's house ? Must 
we wait until the soul is buried under sin be- 
fore we attempt to rise from it? Must he 
who feels the power of disease taking hold 
upon him wait until the whole body is cor- 
rupted, and the strength nearly gone, before he 
appeals to the physician ? What then must 
be the consequence, but fatal disease and 
death ? If I understand the Scriptures, salva- 
tion is needed by those who have gone but a 
little way in sin, as well as by those who are 
reaching its furthest limit. The peril may not 
seem to be as great, but the saving power is 
equally needed. In both cases, the principle 
of life is wrong, and a radical change is there- 
fore required. 

The weeds which are springing up in a cul- 
tivated garden may seem to be insignificant 
and a few moments' care would remove them; 
but small as they now are, they contain al- 
ready the elements of mischief. Give them 



132 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

time to grow, and it is all they need. Their 
roots strike deeper, they gather to their own 
pernicious uses the strength of the soil ; they 
grow up rapidly, overshadowing and stunting 
the growth of the worthier plant, and coming 
to an early maturity, they scatter the seeds of 
increasing mischief. The wind disperses them 
abroad, until, in a few years, the whole garden 
has lost its fruitfulness, and the neighboring 
fields are also ruined. Then, if you would 
eradicate those weeds, which a year ago were 
so insignificant, you must strike the plough deep 
and turn their roots up to the light of heaven ; 
and years of patient industry will be needed 
before you rid yourselves of the evil. Is it not 
better to pull them up when they are but few, 
and their hold upon the soil feeble ? They are 
evil now, is it not better to prevent them from 
becoming the parent of greater evil ? But re- 
member that, whenever you take them in hand, 
precisely the same process is needed for their 
effectual removal. You may pull them up as 
with your fingers, or the ploughshare may be 
required for the work ; but, in either case, they 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 133 

must be pulled up. To trample upon them 
or to cut them down will not do ; the root is 
still there and will spring up again. To scat- 
ter good seed among them is not enough ; for 
there is danger that the weeds will grow up 
fastest, and " choke the good seed," even as it 
has been from the beginning. It may be only 
the sin of occasional Sabbath-breaking ; it 
may be only that slight degree of dissipation 
which is softened by the name of wildness or 
youthful folly ; it may be only the habit of 
profanity, by which no great harm is intended, 
and of which, although we may acknowledge 
that it is a proof of bad manners, we are not 
willing to acknowledge that it is an evidence 
of a bad heart ; or it may be any other of those 
thousand forms in which sin makes its first 
entrance into the unguarded heart ; but the 
sentence is still the same, — they must be 
rooted out, they must be pulled up from the 
soil, if we would secure our safety. 

That little fire which sin is kindling in the 
soul may at first seem only to diffuse a gentle 
warmth, and to bestow upon all the faculties 



134 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

an increased vigor ; but see to it, or it will be 
come a raging and tormenting flame, consum 
ing even your desire of goodness. It is bettei 
to put it out. Extinguish it while you can. It 
is an easy work now, but by and by nothing 
but the miracles of God's love can enable you 
to accomplish it. 

There is something very pleasant, very en- 
couraging, in the Scriptural expression, " when 
he came to himself." It recognizes the fact 
that there is a better nature within us than 
that which sin develops. We are not wholly 
of the earth, a part is also from heaven ; as it 
is written, " God created man and made him 
in his own image." It is true, that by our 
own sinfulness, and through the wicked inven- 
tions of the world, his image is partially ef- 
faced, or covered over by so thick a veil of the 
earth's pollutions, that it is scarcely discerned; 
but yet it remains there, never completely lost, 
never hidden beyond the hope of being again 
restored. That heavenly image is the better 
self. It is of God, yet it is our own. By vir- 
tue of it, we claim alliance with God, and 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 135 

brotherhood with Christ. If it were utterly- 
lost, salvation would be impossible. The 
greatest sinner whom Christ ever redeemed, 
when he arises from the deadly sleep and 
awakens to righteousness, does but come to 
himself. In the farthest land, destitute and 
hungry, feeding the swine which belong to a 
stranger, desiring to share with them in their 
food, friendless and utterly degraded, he says, 
I will arise ; he comes to himself, and at the 
same time looks upward to his God. We 
know how deadly are the sins of which the 
human soul is capable. We know how fear- 
ful its wickedness becomes. We know its 
waywardness, its ingratitude, its rebellion 
against God. But we thank God that there 
is still a better self to which the sinner may 
return. O man, my brother, in the very hope- 
lessness of iniquity does not that thought bring 
hope ? Thou art not all debased ; thou art 
not yet utterly depraved; scarred and disfig- 
ured, changed from all the beauty which was 
once thine own, something of the Divine line- 
aments yet remains in thy soul. There is yet 



136 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

a better self. E/eturn to it ; in the strength 
which God will give, if you ask him, say, "I 
will arise and go to my Farther." 

But, we again ask, why should we wait un- 
til the hour of extreme want, before we return 
to the Father's house ? Why should we wait 
until our best affections are seared, and the 
purity of our souls quite lost, and our capa- 
city for improvement impaired, before we rec- 
ognize our true good ? Do we need that the 
lesson should be so severely taught, before we 
will learn it? Should it not be enough to know 
that the road leads in a wrong direction, to in- 
duce us to leave it ? Must we go to the very 
end, and only when ruin stares us in the face 
be willing to retrace our steps ? Then we 
shall return, if at all, way-worn and haggard, 
weary of the world, wounded in the conflict 
with sin, with hearts so full of sadness that we 
can scarcely find room for rejoicing, and even 
the hope of God's mercy will be mingled with 
fears. Now we are choosing the direction of 
life, and it requires only one strong resolution, 
one earnest prayer, to make the direction right. 



THE WAYS or WISDOM. 137 

Or if we have already gone a little way in 
the wrong path, the vigor of youth and the 
strength of manhood remain, and although 
yome time has been lost, we may yet redeem 
it ; although some stain has been brought 
Lipoii our soals, the tears of repentance will 
quickly wash it off, and we shall be restored 
to self-respect and virtue. 

Consider this, young men, and ponder these 
words with care. If I appeal to you so 
earnestly, it is not because I suppose that 
you have already reached that far country of 
deadly sin and remorse, but that you may 
save yourselves from it. 

I would show you that this flowery path, in 
which you are walking, is wrong in its direc- 
tion, although pleasant for the time. Is there 
not a struggle already going on in your hearts, 
between the higher and lower principles of 
your nature ? It is the great conflict, the 
struggle of life and death. Let the whole 
energy of a strong will be thrown into it, and 
the victory will be for God and your own 
souls. Wait not until evil has become the 



138 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

habit of your lives, a second nature scarcely 
to be changed ; but prevent the formation of 
sinful habits, now while it can be so easily 
done. Keep yourselves from bad influences, 
surround yourselves with the safeguards of 
virtue. It is often better to avoid temptation 
than to overcome it. The sight of evil some- 
times leaves in the mind thoughts and images, 
which are better not to be there. It is for this 
reason that I speak so earnestly, as if it were, 
as I believe it is, a matter of infinite moment. 
Experience and observation both tell us, that 
the elements of the same nature are in us all. 
He that has gone farthest from his God went 
one step at a time, as perhaps we are going 
now. The lowest degradation of the worst 
man living is only the result of the same 
wayward tendencies, to which we are perhaps 
sometimes yielding; of the same bad pas- 
sions, which we perhaps sometimes indulge. 
I know that the evil has not yet come in its 
full force, but honestly speaking, do we not 
discern its possibility ? Have we not had 
enough experience of evil in our own hearts, 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 139 

have we not actually done enough in our own 
lives, to justify the fear of its indefinite in- 
crease ? What then is the course of wisdom ? 
Is it not to stop now while it is easy to stop ? 
Is it not to change the direction of life, before 
life itself is almost wasted ? 

A mistake is often made in thinking of sal- 
vation as something which belongs to the 
future world alone, and not at all to the 
present. Life is represented as if it were 
only a preparation for that beyond the grave. 
We forget that it has its own absolute duties. 
It should have in itself a completeness ; it 
should be in itself a service of God. We 
have a work to do for ourselves, for each other, 
and for the glory of God, which must be done 
here. Even if we were sure of ultimate sal- 
vation, the neglect of this present work is a 
great evil and a great sin. It is a wrong 
committed against God, against humanity 
against our own souls. Even if we escape 
from its worst consequences by repentance 
before we die, it is a wrong in itself, which it 
is the part of wisdom to avoid. I shall ask 



140 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

you, therefore, in what remains of my present 
discourse, to look at the duties of life from 
this point of view. Let us consider our life 
here, not as being only a preparation for the 
future, but as being something in itself. Its 
duties, its relations, its joys and sorrows, its 
virtues and sins, are a present reality. To do 
our part here well and manfully, is something 
worth doing. As, therefore, with reference to 
the future life and to the great salvation, we 
speak of the " means of grace," by which re- 
demption is obtained; so, with reference to the 
present life, we speak of the means of im- 
provement, the human safeguards of virtue. 
These must be used, if we would make the 
best of our own faculties and of life itself. 
We must exercise good sense in our plans of 
life, and place ourselves under the influences 
which favor goodness and discourage sin. 
Some of these influences we shall now con- 
sider. 

The first condition of good health is to 
breathe a good atmosphere. If with every 
breath the seeds of disease are brought to the 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 141 

lungs or the heart, the body will soon show 
the baneful effect, in the loss of its vigor and 
strength. The influence may be very subtle, 
but it is all the more irresistible. So in the 
formation of character, — for the preservation 
of health to the mind and the affections, to 
maintain the purity of our moral nature, the 
moral atmosphere must be pure. The asso- 
ciations into which we are daily brought must 
be favorable to virtue. The society in which 
we daily live must be of a kind to elevate the 
character. 

It is an old proverb, that "a man is known 
by the company he keeps. ^^ This is true, for 
two reasons. First, because, as like seeks like, 
our real tendencies are shown by the sort of 
company we enjoy. If it is vulgar and dissi- 
pated, our seeking it proves that we have 
a relish for vulgarity and dissipation. The 
man of pure feeling and refined taste does 
not feel at home in such companionship ; it 
gives him no pleasure and he avoids it, as 
he would avoid any thing else disagreeable. 
When, therefore, we see a person frequently 



142 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

in such company, it is a fair and just infer- 
ence that he is there because he likes it, and 
therefore that he is himself of the same sort. 
The proverb is true for another reason. A 
man is known by the company he keeps, be- 
cause, however different from it he may be at 
first, he will gradually become like it, almost 
whether he will or no. We are moulded by 
the society in which we live, more than by 
any other influence. It is the atmosphere by 
which we are surrounded, it is the breath 
which sustains life itself. The good man, 
who goes among the wicked for the purpose 
of instructing and reclaiming them to the 
path of virtue, needs to be careful, lest his 
own moral nature become tainted by the con- 
tact. Even in his endeavors to cure them, as 
sometimes with the physician who cures dis- 
ease, while he is engaged in his work of 
mercy the contagion may reach his own heart. 
Even under such circumstances, we need the 
disinfectant of God's grace to secure us from 
evil. But when we enter into wicked or irre- 
ligious society for the sake of its companion- 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 143 

ship ; when we seek our friends there in the 
enjoyment of social intercourse ; however pure 
we may be at our entrance, our doom is al- 
ready sealed, and the loss of innocence and 
virtue is the unavoidable result. 

How can we retain our veneration for God 
and for his glorious majesty, if our ears are 
every moment filled with the profanation of 
his name ? How can we think of Christ as 
our Redeemer, when the name of Jesus is a 
by-word, coupled with every stale jest, and 
bandied about, in anger or in sport, by those 
whom he died to save ? How can we keep 
any sacredness of thought, any respect for 
religion, — the strong hope of heaven or the 
fear of hell, — if every thing sacred is made the 
subject of ridicule, or spoken of with careless 
contempt, by those with whom we have the 
daily intercourse of friendship? How can we 
keep before us the necessity of virtue, the in- 
finite value of the soul, the infinite evil of sin, 
if we are daily living among those who suffer 
no scruples of virtue to interfere with their 
pleasures, and who can always find an excuse 



144 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

for sin if it is profitable ? Let your own obser 
vation of the world, let your own experience of 
life, answer. The instances are so few, where 
young men have placed themselves under the 
influence of bad companionship and escaped 
its contamination, that they scarcely need to 
be considered. They are exceptions to a rule 
which is almost universal. The young man 
may deceive himself. At first, he may sup- 
pose that his principles are not corrupted ; 
that he enjoys the companionship, its laugh- 
ter and its fun, without partaking of its evil 
spirit. He may flatter himself that the evil 
which he hears and sees, only makes him love 
virtue more ; but he is only deceiving himself. 
When the Apostle Paul speaks of wicked 
men and their sins, he thus describes them : 
" Who not only do such things, but have 
pleasure in them that do them." To take 
pleasure in the company of the wicked, is but 
one step from being wicked ourselves. As a 
natural and almost inevitable consequence, 
the word of blasphemy will soon come from 
our own lips ; the cup of intoxication will 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 145 

soon be in our own hands ; the cards and the 
dice will bring the fever to our hearts ; and the 
paths of dissipation will become as familiar 
to our feet, as they are to those of our com- 
panions. Is not this the natural result ? Ac- 
cording to the laws of the human mind, by 
the natural working of our affections, ought 
we not to expect it ? Is it not the actual re- 
sult, of which your own observation could 
bring a hundred proofs, and to which your 
own experience is perhaps adding one proof 
more ? 

We again say that the society in which we 
live is the moral atmosphere we breathe. If 
it is bad, there is but one way of escaping its 
bad influence, — namely, to change it. A 
method of cure which requires strong resolu- 
tion, but there is no other. Change it, if need 
be, by withdrawal at first from all society, and 
gradually obtain the friendship of those whom 
you can respect, instead. The change may 
require resolution, and will also be attended 
with difficulties. Those whom you leave will 
place every obstruction in yoar way ; but if 
10 



146 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

you act, not in a self-righteous and hypocriti- 
cal mannerj but with frankness and gentle- 
manly courtesy, even your old companions 
will respect you more, and some of them, 
perhaps, accompany you in the better path. 
I am inclined to think that whole companies 
of young men sometimes continue in the 
road to ruin, only for the want of two or three 
in their number, who have resolution enough 
to say, "We will stop; we will go no farther; 
we will abandon this course of life ; we will 
live as gentlemen and Christians ought to 
live." Let a few say this, quietly but firmly, 
and the hearts of many will respond. The 
truth is, that all have been half ashamed of 
themselves for a long time, and have been 
hurried forward by each other's example, each 
one wanting the resolution, rather than the 
disposition, to stop. Let that resolution be 
shown by a few, and others will be strength- 
ened thereby, and perhaps the progress of all 
will be stayed. But whether such a result fol- 
low or not, the duty of the individual is the 
same. If he feels within himself the strength 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 147 

to stop, let him use it. Let him withdraw 
from the associations in which his own virtue 
is corrupted and in which he is corrupting the 
virtue of others. It is not a matter of expedi- 
ency only ; it is not for the sake of respectabil- 
ity alone, or of obtaining a better position in 
society, although this would be in itself motive 
enough to a thoughtful man; but it is the 
question of virtue or vice ; it is the alternative 
between a life well spent or utterly lost. 

We say, therefore, to the young man who 
has been brought, either by circumstances be- 
yond his control or by his own choice, into 
the society of uneducated or vulgar or dis- 
sipated companions, that the sooner he frees 
himself from such influences the better, and 
that he must free himself soon, or he will be 
under the servitude of sin for ever. Still more 
earnestly we say to those who have not yet 
entered into such companionship, keep away 
from it as you w^ould avoid the contagion of 
disease, the corruption of iniquity. It may 
have its allurements ; its fascinations may be 
many to the young and thoughtless ; the sin 



148 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

committed may at first seem small ; but it is 
the companionship itself that brings the dan 
ger, and as you value the purity, nay, the sal- 
vation of your souls, it should be avoided. 
So long as we are in the company of the good, 
goodness is easy. Choose your companions 
well, among those who have correct views of 
life, who respect religion, who avoid the paths 
of dissipation, and a virtuous life will be so 
pleasant that you will desire no other. This 
is the great safeguard of virtue. The best of 
us are not strong enough to dispense with it; 
to the young and inexperienced it is every 
thing. Particularly in their unguarded and 
leisure hours, when they seek for amusement 
and recreation from toil, let the companion- 
ship in which they share be good. For, as 
the unwholesome air is most fatal to the body 
when asleep, so is the contagion of bad exam- 
ple most fatal, when the mind rests from its 
serious occupations, and throws itself, in un- 
guarded repose, upon the influences which 
surround it. Then it is that the excellence of 
virtue or the deceitfulness of sin prevails over 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 149 

US, according to the company in which we 
are. We should select it, therefore, with such 
views, that, while we gain refreshment for the 
mind, our love of virtue may be strengthened, 
our tastes refined, and our desires of goodness 
confirmed. 

The kindness with which you have thus far 
heard me, and upon which I have already en- 
croached by unusual plainness of speech, will 
perhaps allow me to speak of another subject, 
upon which judicious advice is sometimes 
needed. One of the best rules for the pres- 
ervation of virtue, and for keeping ourselves 
away from temptation, is to avoid extrava- 
gance, to keep out of debt Economy is a 
word which, to the majority of young persons, 
conveys the idea of meanness. It should 
rather convey the idea of independence. We 
would not check the youthful feeling of gen- 
erosity. We would be among the last to in 
culcate meanness, nor is there any one to 
whom a niggardly and parsimonious young 
man is more disagreeable than to me. Such 
a character in the young is against nature. 



150 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

At first sight, extravagance itself seems more 
excusable. But on the other hand, extrav- 
agance is a sort of dishonesty ; to live be- 
yond one's income often degenerates into 
the worst meanness ; to owe money that we 
cannot pay, drives one to subterfuges and un- 
manly evasions, of which no one can help 
being ashamed. Debt is a kind of servitude, 
under which it is hard to retain the more man- 
ly virtues of freedom. Under its influence, 
our own self-respect is very apt to be dimin- 
ished. It is mortifying to acknowledge even 
to ourselves that there are men whom we are 
almost afraid to meet, and to whom we have 
given the right to treat us in a manner to hurt 
our feelings. The creditor who demands pay- 
ment, and the debtor who is unable to make 
it, are seldom upon equal terms. 

There is no rule, therefore, more important 
in maintaining independence of feeling and a 
nice sense of honor, than to live within one's 
means, so that we may have an answer to give 
to every one who says, " Pay me that thou 
owest." I have known many young persons 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 151 

whoso prospects in life have been ruined by 
neglect of this rule. Debts, thoughtlessly in- 
curred, give food for anxious thought after- 
ward, and it is astonishing how great an effect 
upon the whole character is produced. The 
young man suffering under this sort of anxie- 
ty, eager for an increase of income, discon- 
tented with what he now receives, uneasy lest 
his embarrassment may be known, fearful of 
being dunned, is in no state of mind for self- 
improvement. When alone, he is too nervous 
to read, when in company too restless for its 
enjoyment. The tone of his mind becomes 
unhealthy and his mode of life careless. On 
the other hand, the feeling that he does not 
depend upon the favor of any one, that he is 
always in a position to change his place, if 
unjustly treated, and that he is not obliged to 
seek any man's favor by unworthy stooping, 
produces a feeling of self-respect, which will 
save him from a great deal of folly. 

Another safeguard of virtue is found in 
good hooks. By surrounding ourselves with 
them, and making ourselves familiar with them 



152 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

as with beioved companions, we take an ef- 
fectual means of self-improvement ; we place 
ourselves beyond the reach of many tempta- 
tions ; we secure a fund of enjoyment, rich and 
unfailing. It is a source of delight, of rational 
happiness, which can never be exhausted, but 
still becomes greater, and is prized more and 
more to the end of life. He who loves read- 
ing, and has books within his reach, is an in- 
dependent man, be he rich or poor. Every 
volume he opens is a cordial friend, whose 
hand he grasps and whose countenance to- 
wards him does not change. 

We lose ourselves from the vexations of 
life, we retire from its cares, we forget its dis- 
appointments ; even its bereavements are soft- 
ened to our hearts, when we thus ponder the 
wisdom of the dead, or receive the quickening 
thoughts of the living. How sacred, how 
blessed, is that intercourse I how ennobling 
the companionship, when we stand with Mil- 
ton, and Socrates, and Shakspeare, and 
Homer, and Addison, and Johnson, and 
Schiller, and Goethe, and all the worthies 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 153 

of every land and every age, from Moses, the 
great lawgiver, and David, the greatest poet, 
to our own Webster and Bryant. "When 
they are all around us, with all their best 
thoughts, their sagest instruction ; with the 
gay sparkling of fancy, and wit provoking 
laughter until it comes with tears ; or with im- 
ages of sorrow and pathetic tenderness, which 
make our hearts almost bleed, yet with not an 
unpieasing sadness ; in such companionship, 
though alone, how glorious society we enjoy! 
Who could ask any thing of the world when 
the treasure of such riches is his own ? 

Who can enjoy the society of the vulgar, or 
enter upon scenes of dissipation, when he has 
learned to enjoy pleasures so refined, in com- 
pany so select and beautiful ? 

The love which the scholar feels for his 
books, none but a scholar can understand ; but 
every one who diligently seeks for self-im- 
provement must learn something of it from 
his own experience, or his progress will be 
slow. The taste for reading is one of the sur- 
est marks of an improving mind and a virtu- 



154 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

ous character. But it will not come of itself. 
At first it must be cultivated with diligence, 
as we would perform any other duty. Other 
engagements will seem more attractive, and 
we shall sometimes take up our books with a 
feeling of weariness, as an irksome task ; but 
the habit will soon be formed. As the mind 
gains knowledge, we shall love the sources 
from which knowledge comes. 

We need offer no argument to show that to 
the individual the habit is invaluable ; to be a 
reading man is, generally speaking, to be a 
moral man and a useful citizen. To a com^ 
munity it is equally important ; for to be an 
enlightened community and a reading com- 
munity are but two expressions for the same 
thing. I would not lay so much stress upon 
this point, having already spoken of it once 
before in these lectures, but because I think 
that this is the respect in which, as a commu- 
nity, we are most deficient. Our young men 
need to have their attention turned away from 
mere anusement, to the higher pleasure which 
reading affords. They need more of that ed 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 155 

ucation and refinement, which books alone 
can give. No other human influence can do 
more than this to check the growth of intem- 
perance and to elevate the moral standing of 
this city. If I had it in my power to close ev- 
ery bar-room and place of wickedness, and to 
prohibit the sale of intoxicating drink by law, 
I should probably exercise the power with 
great gladness; but not one half the good 
would be thereby accomplished, nor would it 
be half so well done, as by giving to a]l our 
young men so great a taste for reading, that 
they would lose the taste for dissipation. If 
we could thus take away the occupants of our 
splendid saloons, their splendor would soon 
fade away. 

It is for this reason that we look with so 
great pride upon the growth of an institution 
whose express object is to cultivate the taste 
for reading among us, and to provide means 
for its exercise. I refer to the Mercantile Li 
brary Association. It is a good beginning 
and promises well for the future. We would 
place it next to the institutions of religion it- 



156 THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

self, as a means of promoting virtue and dis- 
couraging vice. We mention it in this con- 
nection for another reason also ; because it is 
not only intended chiefly for the benefit of our 
young men, but because it is chiefly the work 
of our young men themselves. It is true, in- 
deed, that they have received from the older 
part of the community, efficient and indispen- 
sable aid ; but the laboring oar has been in the 
hands of young men themselves, or of those 
who are but just passing into the years of 
middle life. More than half of its annual sub- 
scribers are young men, who are not them- 
selves yet established in business. Its grow- 
ing favor in this community is, therefore, one 
of the best evidences of improvement. Its li- 
brary, although not large, is well selected, and, 
being easily accessible to young men, offers to 
them means of self-improvement and rational 
enjoyment, which no young man is wise to 
neglect. We hope that the spacious rooms 
which will soon be ready for its use will not be 
too large for the accommodation of those who 
desire to avail themselves of its privileges. 



THE WAYS OF WISDOM. 157 

Will you also indulge me if I take this op- 
portunity of paying a tribute to the memory 
of one, of whose death, in a distant land, we 
have recently heard. Although a young man, 
he was among the early friends of the institu- 
tion just now named, and, at the time of his 
leaving this city, one of its directors. Him- 
self a beginner in life, he gave what is often 
better than money, his time and personal at- 
tention to its interests. I refer to Theodore 
Clark. From his boyhood I knew him well, 
and watched over him in his youth and early 
manhood, not only as his pastor, but as his 
friend. His death is to me a personal grief, 
and to this church, of which he was a valued 
member, an irreparable loss. Although he had 
removed for the time to a distant home, his 
place here did not seem to be vacant, until 
now. The tears which fall to his memory are 
those of sincere sorrow, and the tribute of re- 
spect now paid is also the tribute of affection. 

How mysterious are those dispensations of 
Providence, by which the young and useful 
are taken away in the beginning of their ca- 



158 TliE WAYS OF WISDOM. 

reer ! But the dealings of God are not meas- 
ured by the wisdom of men. Death knows no 
distinction either of age or place. However 
young and strong, the warning is equally to 
us all. Be ye ready also, for in a day and 
hour when ye think not, the Lord cometh. 
Are we ready now ? If death were to call us 
hence to-day or to-morrow, could we obey the 
summons without fear? He who lives as he 
ought is always prepared to die. " Rejoice, 
O young man, in thy youth," saith the Scrip- 
ture, " and let thy heart cheer thee, in the days 
of thy youth ; but know thou, that for all these 
things God shall bring thee into judgment." 
Therefore, "fear God and keep his command- 
ments, for this is the whole duty of man." 



LECTURE VI. 



EELIGION 

" I beseech, you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye pre- 
sent your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is 
your reasonable service." — Rom. xii. 1. 

My previous lectures have been chiefly upon 
moral subjects. We have considered the du- 
ties devolving upon us, in the ordinary rela- 
tions of life, with reference to our usefulness 
and happiness in this world. The motives by 
which the necessity of a good life has been 
urged, have been drawn, in part, from those 
considerations of propriety, of self-respect, and 
even of worldly success, which belong to this 
life alone, and are in themselves considered 
motives of expediency, as much as of right. I 
have, indeed, endeavored to preserve an unde^ 
current of religious feeling, and thereby impart 
seriousness and solemnity to our thoughts. 



IGO RELIGION. 

My own mind has never bt en drawn, even for 
a moment, from the responsibility under which 
we stand to God. The truth that the present 
life is also a preparation for the future, has 
been continually present to me. Even in 
those remarks which may have seemed most 
exclusively prudential and worldly, I have de- 
sired to make all rest on this foundation. 

If the present life were all of which we have 
promise, there are, perhaps, sufficient motives 
to keep a sensible man from the dissipations 
and wickedness of the world, and to induce 
him to spend his time in a course of sobriety 
and usefulness ; but it is only when we think 
of the present life as the childhood of the soul, 
and that the character which the soul forms 
for itself here must go with it to the threshold 
of Eternity, that we can discern the infinite 
importance of goodness, and the fearfulness of 
that wrong which we do to our own souls 
through sin. As we say to the child, to be 
diligent in his school-days, because upon this 
his character as a man will depend, so do we 
say of the present life, that we should spend it 



RELIGION. IGl 

well, because we are now educating ourselves 
for good or evil in the world to come. Is it 
not a thoug.it to startle us from indifference ? 
Does it not confer sacredness upon the com- 
mon duties of life, and the brand of deeper in- 
famy upon its sins? If it were only the re- 
spectability and the comfort, the rational en- 
joyment and usefulness of a life which must 
end in fifty or sixty years, we might almost 
excuse ourselves in sin, by saying that after all 
it is a matter of small importance and will 
soon be over ; but when we think of it all, as 
only the beginning now, the dread consequen- 
ces of which, will be developed in the unknown 
but never ending future, our hearts are sobered 
from their folly, our consciences are wakened 
from their sleep. 

I would not urge upon you the fear of hell, 
as the leading motive to a good life, for I find 
no authority in Scripture, in the preaching of 
Christ or his Apostles, for so doing; although 
they did not conceal the "terrors of the Lord," 
they used them " for the persuasion of men." 
They spoke plainly of the terrible consequen- 
11 



162 RELIGION. 

ces of sin, both here and hereafter; but it was 
chiefly by the beauty of goodness and by the 
love of God that they made their appeal. " I 
beseech you therefore, by the mercies of God," 
said the Apostle, " to present your bodies a liv- 
ing sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which 
is your reasonable service." The true Chris- 
tian preaching calls attention to the dreadful 
consequences of sin, only so far as to make 
the pursuit of virtue the reasonable service of 
God. Nothing, I suppose, has contributed 
more to bring religion into contempt, than the 
manner in which the fear of hell has been 
made " the hangman's whip, to keep the world 
in order." It is sometimes used as a motive, 
not less mercenary than the most common re- 
wards of virtue in the present life. We may 
learn to think of heaven and hell as the pay- 
ment for so much virtue, or the punishment 
for so much sin, just as we think of money re- 
ceived in payment for work done, or of the jail 
as the penalty of crime. It is better to con- 
duct ourselves well, even from such motives 
as these, than not at all ; but the motives are 



RELIGION. 163 

certainly of a low kind, and not well calcu- 
lated to develop a high order of virtue. 

If we can love God only so long as the fear 
of his anger is before us, our case is, at the 
best, but a bad one. If sin is hateful to us, 
only because its outward punishment, either 
here or hereafter, is terrible, our hearts may in 
fact be loving the sin itself and yearning for 
its commission all the time. We must ri£;e to 
a much higher state of feeling than this, before 
we are properly Evangelical or Gospel Chris- 
tians. We must learn to feel that virtue is its 
own exceeding great reward, and that we are 
paid, over and over again, for all our exertions 
to do right, for all acts of self-denial, for all 
perseverance in well-doing, by the character 
which we are thus giving to our own souls, by 
the communion which we are thus holding 
with the pure and good and above all with 
God himself. We should feel, that in the 
commission of a base action, or the indulgence 
of bad passions, the baseness and degradation 
are themselves the greatest punishment. The 
hope of heaven then becomes a right and wor- 



164 RELIGION. 

thy motive, because its reward is in the con- 
tinuance and perfect completion, through eter- 
nity, of that serene delight which begins here 
The fear of future retribution then becomes an 
availing motive, of which we need not be 
ashamed, because it is chiefly the continuance 
of that same baseness of character to which 
sin now degrades us, and by which, as we are 
separated from God's love now, we have rea- 
son to fear that we shall be separated from 
him more widely hereafter. 

Religion ought not to be made the calcula- 
tion of profit and loss. As the body hungers 
for its dailv food, because needful for its main- 
tenance, so should the soul hunger and thirst 
after righteousness, because necessary for its 
full development, for its healthy action, for the 
maintenance of its real life. As spiritual be- 
ings, we live just in proportion to our degree 
of goodness. When we commit sin, the soul 
languishes. If it were possible to be com 
pletely buried in sin, the soul would die. It 
finds no elements of life in wickedness, but all 
its faculties are cramped, its beauty lost, its 



RELIGION. 1G5 

capacity of improvement impaired. Compare 
the soul of one whose life has been consecrat- 
ed to goodness and truth, with that of one 
whose whole life has been wasted in self- 
indulgence, or given to the pursuit of sin. 
When they are both called to the judgment- 
seat of Christ, how differently do they appear! 
I do not now say how different must be the 
judgment pronounced on them, but how dif- 
ferent they are in themselves. You would 
hardly suppose them to be of the same fam- 
ily or kindred. They seem to be of a differ- 
ent nature. Equally different, therefore, must 
be their destination. The sentence is in them- 
selves already, " Depart from me, ye cursed," 
or " Come unto me, ye blessed of my Father." 
Nothing, however, can be more absurd, than 
to think of the heavenly life as being, in a 
meritorious sense, the reward of a good life 
on earth. The Saviour taught that "when 
we have done all we are unprofitable servants, 
doing only what is our duty to do." That is to 
say, God may properly claim our best service, 
and therefore we can do nothing to establish 



166 KELIGIOIS!. 

a claim upon him in return. We should not 
speak of future salvation, as if it were a debt 
due from God to us, to be claimed, just as the 
aborer claims payment for the work he has 
done. It is as though you were to confer 
benefits, day after day, and year after year, 
upon some one who has no claim upon you, 
and he should demand the continuance of 
such benefits as a right. Even if our whole 
duty were performed, the hope of eternal life 
must be founded upon the continuance of the 
Divine goodness, the faithfulness of the Di- 
vine promise ; but when we confess, as we 
must, that, instead of our whole duty, not one 
half has been done, the absurdity of making 
that imperfect performance a claim to infi- 
nite reward is sufficiently evident. To escape 
punishment for what remains undone, or for 
what has been done badly, is in itself a great 
deliverance. Our relation towards God is 
that of sinners who ask forgiveness, of peni- 
tents seeking for pardon. When, therefore, in 
addition to the forgiveness asked, a life of joy 
is promised, a life of communion with the 



RELIGION. ]G7 

just made perfect, with the holy Jesus and 
with the infinite God himself, our hearts over- 
flow with gratitude, and all thoughts of our 
own merit are for ever put away. 

We know that repentance and a renewed 
life are made a condition, and they are an in- 
dispensable condition, of future happiness. I 
do not know of any part of Scripture which 
encourages us to hope for salvation upon any 
other terms. But the condition on which a 
benefit is conferred, is very different from its 
procuring cause. You may promise to a poor 
man that, if he will come to your house, you 
will relieve his wants; his coming is therefore 
a condition, upon the fulfilment of which your 
assistance will be given ; but who would pre- 
tend that it is in any proper sense meritorious ? 
The gift would come from your liberality, as 
much as if no condition had been annexed. 
Or, if you were to receive a young person as 
a scholar, with the promise^ that, if he uses his 
advantages well up to a certain point, so as 
to prepare himself for greater, they shall be 
given to him ; in one sense this would appear 



lf)8 RELIGION. 

as a reward, but the obligation resting upon 
you would come only from your own promise, 
and not at all on the ground of his merit. 
Your promise itself was given gratuitously, 
and its fulfilment is only the completion of a 
kindness begun. 

So far as the idea of reward is contained in 
the promise of future bliss, it is contained in 
the illustration now given. We are placed 
here, the children of God, surrounded by bless- 
ings, with abundant opportunities of im- 
provement, the tokens of God's love every- 
where present, and with the promise, that, if 
we use these present blessings for our own 
education in goodness and truth, so as to be 
capable of receiving greater blessings hereafter, 
they shall be given to us. Use the earth well, 
and heaven shall be yours. Educate your- 
selves for the higher life, and you shall enter 
upon it. Follow God's present guidance, and 
he will lead you from glory to glory, from one 
height of excellence and enjoyment to another, 
through the ages of eternity. If we call the 
fulfilment of these gracious promises the re- 



RELIGION. 1G9 

ward of a Christian life, it is not, in the strict 
sense of reward, as a debt from nim who 
gives it, which we can claim on the score of 
merit, but only on the faithfulness of him by 
whom the promise is made. It is better to 
say that the regenerate life is the condition 
on which salvation is freely offered through 
Jesus Christ. 

And why is it made a condition ? Not be- 
cause God gains any thing by its fulfilment ; 
he requires nothing of us, as though he needed 
it, " seeing that in him we live and move and 
have our being." Our best holiness is but the 
working of his spirit in our hearts, and the 
part which we do is to submit ourselves to 
the heavenly guidance. It is made the con- 
dition, so far as we can understand the sub- 
ject, just as each step in knowledge is the 
condition of further progress. It is imposed 
upon us, not by an arbitrary decree, but by 
he law under which we live. " To him that 
hath shall be given," is the law of spiritual 
progress. Nothing can be given to those who 
have not the capacity to receive it. I believe 



170 RELIGION 

that God always confers upon us the greatest 
amount of spiritual blessings that we are ca- 
pable to receive. By using the present gift 
the capacity enlarges, and the human soul, 
through the continuance of God's grace, ex- 
pands to an angel's form. This is eternal life, 
of w^hich we must have the earnest here, if 
we would enter upon that greater promise 
hereafter. 

In the same manner, a wrong idea is often 
entertained of the punishment threatened ; as 
though our sins were a wrong done to God, 
an injury inflicted upon him, for which he will 
take vengeance. But the Scriptures say, " He 
that committeth sin wrongeth his own soul." 
How can the finite injure the Infinite ? How 
can the creature inflict a wrong upon the 
Creator, who sustains him in life and gives 
him the power by which the wrong is done? 
How can we think of God as thirsting for 
vengeance against those, whom by a breath 
he could sweep away for ever? That contest 
would be too unequal. It is true that the 
Scripture uses language, a literal interpreta- 



RELIGION. l"^! 

tion of which would convey this idea of 
punishment, but a moment's thought shows 
its true meaning. The explanation of all 
God's dealing with us, however severe it may 
be, and of all the threatenings contained in 
his word, is found in the twofold character 
of God; first, as our Heavenly Father, and, 
secondly, as a being infinitely wise and holy. 

As a Father, he directs all things for our 
good, but, leaving to us freedom to obey or 
disobey him, to use the means of grace or to 
neglect them, we are of course subject to sin 
and the ruin it produces. As a Being infi- 
nitely wise and holy, our departure from sin 
and return to goodness is absolutely indispen- 
sable to his favor ; it is equally indispensable 
to our own real happiness. Whatever degree 
of suffering, therefore, may be necessary un- 
der God's parental discipline, however terri- 
ble it may seem and however terrible it may 
be, is the inevitable consequence. The moral 
government of God, in which holiness is made 
the absolute law, must be maintained. The 
"terrors of the Lord" therefore sufficiently 



172 RELIGION. 

appear. But there is nothing, in the infliction 
of his severest sentences, like human ven- 
geance, or the expression of anger as a per- 
sonal feeling. We do not pretend to interpret 
all the principles of the Divine government, 
as though we sat upon the judgment-seat, 
but the general principles now laid down may- 
be asserted, we think, with the utmost confi- 
dence. It is a view of religion, at the same 
time the most cheering and most alarming we 
can take. It delivers us from superstitious 
fears, from slavish trembling before God, 
while it reveals to us the absolute necessity 
of a good and holy life. There is no escape 
from it. It is required not only by the com- 
mands of God, but by the nature of God 
itself. It is required also by our own nature, 
which is, in this respect, created after the 
image of God. 

It thus appears in what manner the Chris- 
tian life is the condition of salvation, not as 
a procuring cause, but as the indispensable 
preparation. But the question now arises, In 
what does that preparation consist? Wliat 



RELIGION. 173 

do we mean by a Christian life as a condition 
of acceptance? This is an important ques- 
tion, and upon its answer our views of practi- 
cal religion will chiefly depend. The same 
question was proposed by a prophet in olden 
time, and his answer will guide us to the 
truth. " What is it, O man, that the Lord 
thy God requireth of thee, but this, to do 
justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with thy 
God ? " It consists, therefore, of two parts ; 
the faithful and kind performance of our 
duties to each other, and the spirit of devotion 
towards God. Both parts are equally impor- 
tant, and neither is perfect without the other. 
The same answer is given by Christ himself, 
although in different words, when he says 
that there are but two essential command- 
ments, of which the first is " to love the 
Lord our God with all the heart," and the 
second, " to love our neighbor as we love 
ourselves." 

There is a great difference between morality 
and religion. We may say, indeed, that mo- 
rality cannot be perfect, without religious prin- 



174 RELIGION. 

ciple for its foundation ; and as a matter of 
fact, this is true. Worldly principles are not 
enough to make a man truly good. But in 
idea we may consider morality quite abstract- 
ly from religion, and in practical life we find 
many instances of those who are called moral 
men, and who are so in all the common rela- 
tions of life, but upon whose hearts the influ- 
ence of religion has not yet been shed. World- 
ly and selfish motives are enough to conform 
our characters to a high standard of respectabil- 
ity, and our natural affections, if well directed 
in early life, will lead to the practice of those 
virtues, upon which the comfort of our fami- 
lies and the peace of society depend. Some- 
times a degree of excellence is thus attained 
deserving of great respect. We do not un- 
dervalue it. Such obedience is very often, as 
it is said of the law, " the schoolmaster 
which brings us to Christ" ; but it is evident, 
even to superficial thought, that, however cor- 
rect the outward conduct may be, its real 
character depends upon the motive by which 
it is actuated. You may describe a man 



RELIGIOK 175 

who, to human observation, wrongs no per- 
son, but fulfils all his duties with scrupulous 
exactness, of whonn you may yet say that 
God is not in all his thoughts. You may 
imagine such an one, we do not say that you 
will find him in actual life, but you may 
imagine him to be impelled in all that he does 
by motives of self-interest. It may all be 
nothing but a refined calculation of profit and 
loss. It may be all in the service of the world 
and from the fear of man. Now, however es- 
timable his exterior may be, and however val- 
uable in the common relations of life, we can- 
not help admitting that the soul, when actuated 
by no higher motives than these, is very far from 
its own highest advancement. Change its rul- 
ing principle ; let the supreme love of good- 
ness take possession of it, for goodness' sake ; 
infuse into it the martyr's spirit of self-sacri- 
fice ; let self-consecration take the place of 
self-love ; let God become the object of su- 
preme worship, instead of thb world, and how 
complete a change in the spiritual nature is 
produced ! It is as complete regeneration as 



176 RELIGION. 

the change from vice to virtue ; as complete, 
we say, and as real, although not as open to 
outward observation. 

Such is an extreme case, but it serves to 
show the essential difference between morality 
and religion. The common experience of life 
shows it equally well, and in a more practical 
manner. As the world goes, moral men are 
very frequently not religious men ; and what 
is still more unfortunate, those who claim to 
be religious are not always moral. This is a 
manifest and gross inconsistency, and proves 
that their religion itself is either shallow or 
hypocritical ; but instances of it are not un- 
common. Men who have their seasons of fer- 
vent prayer, who are carried even beyond the 
bounds of reason by religious zeal, who make 
many professions, and that too not without 
sincerity, are yet sometimes known as men not 
to be trusted, who will be guilty of overreach- 
ing, falsehood, and other offences, which the 
common morality of life rebukes. The relig- 
ion of such persons is not always hypocritical, 
but more frequently shallow. It is founded 



RELIGION. 177 

upon wrong principles. It is the result of 
wrong education. It comes from the idea 
that the worship of God is something exter- 
nal, which he requires for his own sake, 
instead of that "reasonable service," which 
consists in presenting the body a living sacri- 
fice to him. When we learn that " they 
who worship God must worship him in spirit 
and in truth," and that no worship can be ac- 
ceptable to him which comes from an impure 
or bigoted heart, or which is accompanied 
by an impure or dishonest life, then the relig- 
ion which tries to dispense with morality, and 
the faith which tries to do without works, wil 
be abandoned. Religion, if rightly consid 
ered, is the spirit in which we live. When 
we have the spirit of Christ, we have the 
Christian religion. In proportion as we ob- 
tain it we are Christians. It must penetrate 
and gradually purify our whole nature. It 
must govern us in all the departments of life. 
It begins with that fear of God which is the 
fear to commit sin, and is perfected in that 
love of God which leads to the love of good- 
12 



178 RELIGION. 

ness. It infuses into all our actions a heaven- 
ly purpose, and gives to all our steps a heaven- 
ward direction. It gradually becomes the 
ruling motive and gives a new character, al- 
most a higher natuie, to the soul. We do 
not say that this is at once accomplished, but 
it is the work proposed. It is the tendency 
which Keligion gives to the soul, conforming 
it to that which is heavenly, raising it above 
that which is earthly, taking away the selfish 
life and bringing the life of God into the soul 
of man. It holds before us the perfect ex- 
ample of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and, 
teaching us that we also are the children of 
God, encourages us to press forward towards 
the mark of our high calling. It commands 
us to become like Jesus, and in that one 
word includes the highest self-devotion to 
God, and the most careful performance of all 
the duties of life. 

What I would chiefly urge upon you now 
is the necessity of religion, as a pervading in- 
fluence of life, to every one of us, especially to 
those who are young. If there are any whose 



RELIGION. 17^ 

passions are already subdued under other dis- 
cipline, they will still need its comforting and 
purifying presence ; but the young cannot dis- 
pense with it, without the greatest risk even to 
their common morality. Religion is needed 
by them in the development of their faculties, 
in the education of their minds, in the govern- 
ment of life. It is the balance-wheel, to im- 
part steady and regular action to those im- 
pulses, which will otherwise have unequal and 
destructive power. It is needed to give them 
consistency of character, to remove them from 
that strong influence of example which is the 
ruin of so many, to give them the power of 
saying no, when they are tempted. Religion 
is the highest and strongest principle of self- 
guidance. It enables one to stand alone, if in 
a right position ; to refuse following the mul- 
titude in doing evil. I appeal to young men 
if they do not need such an influence. Do you 
not often feel your resolutions giving way, be- 
cause they have no higher support than your 
own will ? Would it not often be a relief to 
you when tempted, to think, I cannot do this 



180 RELIGION. 

because my religion forbids me ? If that si- 
lent appeal were open to you, would it not 
enable you to escape from many of the false 
judgments of the world ? 

I know that young persons are not apt to 
take this view of the subject. They are more 
apt to think that religion is intended as a con- 
solation to those who are in trouble ; as a ref- 
uge to the alarmed and repenting sinner; as 
a staff to support the declining years of the 
aged ; as the promise which allays the fears 
of the dying. It is indeed all this, but it is al- 
so something more. It is the purifying influ- 
ence of life, needed by the young, not less than 
by the old ; by the prosperous, not less than by 
the unfortunate. It is as important to us in 
the fulness of strength as upon the dying bed. 

There are some who think that they may 
spend the whole of life as they please, in friv- 
olous worldliness or heartless sin ; and that at 
the close of life, or even upon the death-bed, 
they can make it all right between themselves 
and God, by a few earnest prayers and by 
casting themselves upon the merits of Jesus 



RELIGION. 181 

Christ. How uncertain is such a reliance, 
even at the best I How can we tell that death 
may not be so sudden as to give not a day or 
an hour for preparation ? How little oppor- 
tunity of thought do the days of sickness af- 
ford, when the body is tortured by pain, and 
the mind disturbed from its healthy action, 
and the anxious faces of friends fill us with 
anxiety, and our own hearts are trembling be- 
cause we are not ready to die ! But still more, 
what right have we to expect that God will 
hear that last despairing cry, of those who 
through their whole lives have refused to call 
upon him ? We would not extinguish that 
hope when there is no other ; but neither 
Scripture nor reason justifies us in making it 
our chief reliance. It is a living sacrifice 
which God demands, not a dying sacrifice. 
Under the Jewish law, he who brought a dis- 
eased or imperfect offering to the altar, from 
his herds or flocks, was rebuked and rejected. 
The offering was required to be without spot 
or stain. Under the Christian dispensation, 
shall we do less honor to the God and Father 



182 RELIGION. 

of our Lord Jesus Christ ? Shall v'e give the 
vigor of our days to worldly and selfish pur- 
suits, and at last come with reluctant steps, 
with the poor wreck of a decaying body, and 
offer that to God for his acceptance ? There 
is a meanness in it, a baseness of calculation, 
from which our hearts revolt. To make Him, 
who ought to be the first and highest in our 
thoughts, the last resort of our feebleness, is 
little short of blasphemy. To acknowledge^ 
as we do, that Christ died to redeem us from 
sin and death, but deliberately to put him 
away from our thoughts and refuse obedience 
to his commands, until all our worldly pur- 
poses have been accomplished, and all our 
sinful appetites indulged, and then turn to him, 
saying : " Now we will accept thy salvation ; 
now we will rely upon thy merits " ; — does not 
rnch a hope, even when it comes, border upon 
despair? What then shall we say of those 
who hold it before them as their plan of life, 
and who devote their days to sin, with such an 
expectation of final escape ? 

There are some who neglect religion in 



RELIGION. 183 

fcheir youth, because the"" think that by and 
by it will be easier to become religious. They 
flatter themselves that youthful folly will die 
out, of itself; that the strength of their pas- 
sions will become less, and the work of self- 
government easier ; that the temptations of life 
will not be so many, nor so hard to resist; 
that as they grow older, religious thought will 
become more natural to them, and worldliness 
less attractive. They hope, therefore, to grow 
into religion by the natural progress of life. 
In other words, starting in a wrong direction, 
and travelling as fast as they well can, they 
expect to arrive at the right conclusion of their 
journey. The whole experience of life shows 
their folly. When did you ever know bad 
passions to become less by indulgence ? When 
did wrong habits ever correct themselves, or 
become easier of correction by continuance? 
You say that it is hard for you to be religious 
now ; I grant it. It will require your best 
exertions and the assistance of God's spirit, 
which he has also promised. But it will be 
harder next year, and every year that you live, 



184 RELIGION. 

until it becomes almost impossible. Begin the 
work now, enlist the power of habit on the side 
of virtue, make religion the ruling principle, 
and you will then find that as you grow older 
the work will become easier. Walking in a 
right direction, surmounting one obstacle after 
another, although you may seem to progress 
slowly, yet every step is so much gained, and 
your whole life will accomplish a great deal. 
Then, at the close of life, you may cast your- 
self upon the mercy of God, of which you will 
still have enough need, with a reasonable 
hope, yea, with a strong confidence, that his 
promise of salvation through Jesus Christ will 
be fulfilled. 

But there are some, who admit all I have 
now said, but upon whom it has no practical 
influence. They admit that religion is the 
strongest influence that can be brought to bear 
upon them. They admit its absolute neces- 
sity ; they do not believe in a death-bed re- 
pentance ; yet they remain irreligious, and do 
not even put themselves under religious in 
struction. And this, not from a determinate 



RELIGION. 185 

purpose to neglect religion, but for reasons 
which are scarcely reasons at all. Perhaps it 
is only from a habit of procrastination. Some 
decided step is needed in the beginning, some 
change in their ordinary mode of life ; and as 
there seems to be no necessity for beginning 
to-day, they wait until to-morrow ; until grad- 
ually the intention itself dies away, and the 
habits of irreligion become confirmed. 

I have also known many persons, who have 
suffered the better part of life to pass without 
placing themselves under religious influences, 
because they have not quite determined what 
church to attend. Their religious opinions 
are not fixed. They visit sometimes one place 
of worship and sometimes another, or, in the 
doubt where to go, do not go anywhere ; so 
that their thoughts become scattered, the reg- 
ularity of habit is broken up, their opinions, 
instead of becoming more settled, are more 
wavering, and the result is complete indiffer- 
ence or scepticism. Let me, therefore, in con- 
clusion, say a few words upon this subject. I 
cannot properly now enter upon a discussion 



186 RELIGION. 

of religious doctrines, nor do any thing to set- 
tle your minds concerning them. For I can 
honestly say, that I have had no sectarian pur- 
pose to accomplish in these lectures. It is a 
matter of secondary importance to me, wheth- 
er those who have heard them are led to make 
this their place of worship, or some other. If 
they are awakened to the necessity of religion 
and encouraged in the practice of virtue, I 
shall be abundantly content. But I may take 
the liberty of advising every young man to se- 
lect some place of public worship as his own, 
and to occupy his seat there as regularly as 
the Sunday comes. I do not mean that he 
should never go to any church but his own, 
for it is useful at times to go elsewhere, to 
keep him from becoming narrow-minded and 
bigoted. But he should have his own custom- 
ary place of worship, where he will attend, un- 
less sufficient reason leads him for the time to 
some other. 

He will soon find his account in this. It is 
not that a single sermon, or many sermons, 
will do him much good. Sermons are very 



RELIGION. 187 

often dull ; the subjects treated are often such 
as do not interest the young, and the hour 
spent at church will sometimes be the longest 
in the day. You may think that you would 
have done better to stay at home and read, 
and so far as mere instruction is concerned 
this will sometimes be true. But the general 
influence of the House of Prayer is, neverthe- 
less, in the highest degree beneficial. I am 
disposed to think it almost indispensable, as a 
means of religious improvement. You will 
find very few persons who neglect it without 
injury to themselves. It is not so much the 
instruction imparted, although that is some- 
thing, but a higher direction is given to the 
thoughts ; the eager pursuit of worldly things 
is moderated ; our sins are rebuked, if not by 
the sermon, yet by the Scripture read and the 
prayers offered ; we are reminded of many 
things which, although we know them well 
enough, we are prone to forget ; above all, we 
near the name of Jesus Christ as our Saviour, 
and of the Infinite God as our Heavenly Fa- 
ther, and as our hearts respond, in unison with 



188 RELIGION. 

many others, to those blessed words, which 
are more dear to us as they become more fa- 
miliar, the united influence of our own 
prayers, and of sympathy with those around 
us, and of all the associations of the place, ex- 
cites within us a yearning after goodness, and 
turns us from the love of sin. We go away 
self-rebuked, yet encouraged for new endeavor. 
We have found consolation under sorrow, 
strength to resist temptation, and perhaps the 
hope of eternal life. Such is the natural and 
proper influence of the place where prayer is 
wont to be made. We shall not fail to expe- 
rience it, if we are truly engaged in the work 
of self-improvement, in the formation of the 
Christian character. We do not speak of 
church-going as a meritorious act, in itself 
considered ; but as a judicious act, which, 
when done with a right motive, is almost sure 
to produce a good result. Its neglect leaves 
the Sunday unoccupied, and opens the way to 
many temptations. The religious instruction 
of our childhood is gradually forgotten. We 
become more worldly-minded and less devout; 



RELIGION. 189 

the associations both of the Sunday and of the 
week-day become less favorable to virtue, and 
at the end of a few years we find abundant 
reason to lament that we ever departed from 
the habits of our early days. 

If, then, it is wise to attend regularly at 
some church, upon what principles shall we 
make the selection ? We answer, go where 
you hear the Gospel most faithfully preached, 
and where you feel the influence upon your 
own character to be the best. Compare the 
preaching you hear with the Bible you read. 
" Judge for yourselves what is right," accord- 
ing to this standard, and you are not likely to 
go far wrong. Among all the different creeds 
taught, you may not be able to decide which 
is absolutely correct, and there are many points 
of doctrine concerning which you may always 
remain in doubt ; but the great principles of 
Christianity are plain enough to all. With 
regard to its leading doctrines, also, you may 
without much difficulty form an opinion. But 
above all, and what is most important, you 
will have no difl[iculty in deciding where you 



190 RELIGION. 

are most benefited, and that is your proper 
place of worship. 

Wherever it may be, may the God of peace 
go with you ! I have sought to do my own 
duty towards you as a minister of Jesus Christ, 
and, if 1 have spoken too plainly, have endeav- 
ored to " speak the truth in love." I end, 
therefore, as I began, — " beseeching you, by 
the mercies of God, to present your bodies a 
LIVING SACRIFICE, holy, acceptable unto God, 
which is your reasonable service." 



THE END. 



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